Spring in Appenzell
by Baron Munchausen
Summary: Rosamund and Edith go to Switzerland 'to improve their French'. There they find the last person on earth they expected: Anthony, who has been hiding out in Appenzell, near the German border, for two years avoiding Edith. Remembering that Anthony has connections in Germany, she sends him on a chase to find Michael Gregson...
1. Arriving

**_I have a horrible feeling why Michael Gregson was going to Munich to pursue his German citizenship and his divorce. After all, why did he have to go *there*? Right in the south of Germany? When it would have been much easier to go to somewhere nearer England?_**

**_This story was begun as a reply to a picture posted on Tumblr of Rosamund and Edith and continues from the announcement that the two of them were going to Switzerland 'to improve their French'._**

* * *

_._

**Arriving**

_._

"Well, it's a very nice hotel" Rosamund was trying to be cheerful.

"Yes, but the weather…." Edith looked out at the unremitting Swiss snow.

"We're warm enough here. And it means you don't have to venture outside and be seen."

Edith passed a hand over her now swollen belly, wondering if this was a good thing or a bad thing. It had taken them nearly a month to get to Switzerland from Downton partly because Rosamund insisted on visiting lots of her very old friends all the way through France, and partly because Edith's terrible morning sickness had slowed them up.

"I think after dinner, we should both get some rest. It was a very long journey, and they don't agree with me. And you, my dear, should be resting more and more now."

That was rewarded with another of Edith's cynical eyebrow raises. But she had to admit that her aunt had chosen a good hotel. The food was excellent, it was elegant but discreet and because of this seemed to be popular with English quality who wanted to hide from something. Over dinner Edith and Rosamund played a game making up fictitious backgrounds and sins for the guests in the tables around them. It was pleasant enough and a bit of fun, although Edith wondered if others were doing the same - what would they say about her, obviously pregnant as she was.

It was while they were leaving to return to their suite that they almost collided with a man just coming down to dinner. Edith gasped. Frozen still, she couldn't form words in her head. The man seemed to be in a similar state.

It was Rosamund who broke the stalemate.

"Sir Anthony. What an unpleasant surprise!"

Anthony pulled himself together.

"Please forgive me, Lady Edith, Lady Painswick. I…"

"How long have you been here, Anthony?" Edith sputtered in her distress.

Anthony hesitated before he replied "A little over two years." The inference was not lost on Edith or Rosamund.

"You came here to get away from me."

"I came here so you should not have any risk of seeing me. It seems I failed, in that as in everything. I will remove myself immediately."

"No, don't. I have an idea" said Rosamund, with that look she had when she'd concocted some cunning ruse.

* * *

.

Rosamund sat Anthony down in the lounge, all three of them ordering drinks stronger than normal to settle their shattered nerves.

"Sir Anthony, if I remember correctly, you know Germany quite well. Isn't that so?" asked Rosamund.

"Yes, that is quite correct Lady Painswick." He had not looked at Edith since they had almost bumped into each other. Edith, however, couldn't keep her eyes away from him. He had changed: he was thinner, his hair was a touch greyer around the temples, but most of all he had an aura of sadness sharp as razors, as persistent as the tides. She was waiting for him to look at her, longing to see his eyes and terrified of it at the same time. She knew why he would not look at her.

"Then, if you care for Lady Edith even a jot…if you have even a modicum of shame for humiliating her as you did, then I have a request for you. I want you to go to Munich, which isn't that far from the Swiss-German border so it shouldn't take you very long, and find a man named Michael Gregson, who appears to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Will you agree to do this for us?"

Anthony's brow furrowed further, but not from confusion. He was an intelligent man.

"Has Mr. Gregson been missing for long?"

"Yes, just over four months. He was last seen leaving the Hotel Bavaria in Gollierstraße."

"I will need a few more details, such as his description, a photograph if you have one would be helpful too."

"We can get you those, can't we Edith?" Rosamund turned to her niece.

"Yes."

"When I have those I will leave for Munich. Will that be all, Lady Painswick?"

"I'll leave what you need with the concierge in the morning then, Sir Anthony." Rosamund turned to leave.

"Just like that?" Edith's voice was strained, but controlled. "You would agree to take this on and run off on a wild goose chase just on those few little facts?" Edith was still daring him to look at her.

"Yes, Lady Edith, for you I would" Anthony answered, haltingly.

"Why?"

"Because I know I can help. I was an intelligence officer after all."

"But why would you do it?"

Finally, Anthony raised his eyes to Edith and she stepped backward involuntarily. He looked as though he was looking at her through the bars of a condemned cell; there was so much pain there.

"I presume Mr. Gregson is your husband and the father of your child. If he has gone missing, something must be keeping him from you. Nothing else explains why any man would not spend every possible moment by your side…if he had that right…if he deserved it. I pray that I can restore him to you as soon as possible, certainly in time for the happy event. I vow to you upon my life I will do all I can to bring him back to you."

He looked down again, his good hand beginning to shake.

"By your leave, Lady Edith, I will bid you goodnight."

He left, walking away just as he had two years ago; and Edith watched him go, just as she had that awful day. All the toughness that she had cultivated over the months following the jilting, all the joy that Michael had brought her, even the worry and fierceness that becoming a mother-to-be had bred in her…all of it evaporated. What remained was the desolation of loss she felt seeing him leave her all over again.

* * *

.

That night, Anthony sat in his rooms, preoccupied. Up until going down for dinner his life had been the same for two years. He would wake in the early morning, often from dreams of _her_, or the War, or both, but he knew now that he could bear them…and bear them he did, knowing that they were what he deserved. He would wash, shave, and dress himself, something that had taken a good while to master even with his man's help, but he had plenty of time. Breakfast would be sombre as he read yesterday's English paper, always wondering if today would be the day he read of Edith's upcoming nuptials. Every fortnight there would be an excitement to his morning as he read her column in _The Sketch_ and then he would bask in hearing the words in her voice in his head, as though reading it to him over their breakfast together. _This is the life that I threw away _said one voice in his heart. _Yes, and I did it so she could live_ said his head, which was just as much in love with her. This dialogue had continued for two years in self-imposed exile.

Sometime he would have to return; the estate demanded it. Locksley could run itself for a season or three, but sooner or later, he would have to go back and face the possibility of running into Edith again. He had never dreamt it would happen here, where he had hid himself away.

And to add acid to the blow, she was already married and expecting a child. Somehow, he had missed the announcement. Mr Gregson's name had rung a bell for him and on looking through his editions of _The_ _Sketch_ he realised that that was how they must have met. What he had been doing in Germany, Anthony could only surmise, unless what Rosamund and Edith left for him in the morning clarified it, but he did not really expect to be given personal details. Perhaps Gregson was merely pursuing his journalism. After all, Germany was in a wreck of a state these days; reports were needed by the international press. It would make sense.

Near dawn, as he finished packing, Anthony also realised that he had a calm sense of purpose for the first time in some years. If he could find Mr. Gregson and return him to his wife, it might…_might_…help heal some of his own wounds. It might make him feel less of a worm for what he did to her, and bring him some peace.

* * *

.

Edith was waiting for him at the lobby in the morning. He was already dressed in hat and coat when he went down to the concierge with his man carrying his suitcases. He politely removed his Homburg.

"Lady Edith."

She immediately noticed that he had recovered his polished demeanour. This was how she remembered him: polite, gentle, reserved…and with all his emotions totally hidden. What she had seen the day before…all that pain…she was never meant to see.

"Good morning, Sir Anthony." She handed him a thick cardboard file. "Here are all the details that I could think of that might be of use to you. If you need anything further, please don't hesitate to wire me here to ask."

"I'm sure you've been very thorough. Your journalistic skills are considerable."

She looked at him, taken aback.

"I've read all your columns and letters, both in _The Times_ and _The Sketch_. They are marvellous. _You_ are marvellous" he confessed sheepishly. _And they've been the most enormous comfort, as though I could still have a little of you with me._

"Thank you." She looked down, shyly, unsure what she felt about his praise.

"There's one thing, one important thing, well, important to me. That file contains a photograph of Mich…Mr. Gregson. It is the only one I have. Please be very careful with it."

"I promise" he said quietly. She raised her eyes to him again, and he saw the tears she was trying to hide. Suddenly, he wanted to wrap her in softness and warmth and reassure her and protect her, even more than in years gone by.

"I promise I will bring you the photograph back, and I will discover what has happened to your husband and return with him here if it is at all humanly possible. And I promise that I will keep you well-informed of my progress, so you won't have the slightest fear that I've disappeared…again."

Edith looked hurt, but whether it was caused by what he'd said or her situation Anthony couldn't tell. It brought tears to his own eyes, which he quickly breathed back, but not before Edith had seen them.

"I must go now, if I'm to catch the Munich train. You will hear from me very soon, Lady Edith. Farewell."

"Good luck, Anthony, and…thank you."

With her words worn in his soul like his lady's favour, he stepped out of the hotel and into a taxi, bound for Munich.


	2. Searching

**Searching**

_._

Anthony had not been to Germany in nearly six years. It was painful to see the marks of poverty and aimlessness stamped over this once proud, cultured nation. Too many ex-servicemen shuffled in rags in the streets even in winter, standing around braziers, queuing at soup kitchens, desolate and beaten. There were too many women without men, just as there were at home in Britain, and all over Europe. There was too little rebuilding of the ruins as resources were diverted to paying War Reparations well beyond Germany's means. Witnessing all that out of the train window made Anthony feel queasy. To distract himself he read Edith's file on Michael Gregson.

Edith had been thorough. There were details of Gregson's last known trip, along with a short biography extracted from a long article he wrote for _The Sketch_ at the end of the War. From the sepia photograph stared a pleasant face that shocked Anthony. It was as if he were looking at a picture of his own younger self. Edith had married someone who looked like him. Shaking his head away from any further conjectures on that subject he continued sifting through the papers until he came across a long document in Edith's handwriting. His chest constricted on seeing it again after so long. He began to read.

_Dear Anthony,_

_Thank you for agreeing to do this. You saw that it was my aunt's idea, not mine, but I am grateful, whatever my initial reaction to meeting with you again appeared to be. After all, it was a shock, as I'm sure it must have been to you._

_It will help you to find Michael if you know something of our story._

"…our story"…_their_ story…the story of Edith's life _with_ Gregson, without him. Anthony closed his eyes. He knew that this was what he had intended for her: for her to leave him and have a life with someone else. Yes, but it still hurt to find it had become reality.

_Michael offered me a column in The Sketch after the letter to The Times. We worked closely: as a columnist with no experience I needed an editor who could guide me. We grew close. Before anything was said, I discovered that he was married._

Anthony's eyes grew wide. _But surely…_he read on with a needful haste.

_His wife, Lizzie, had been committed to an asylum some years previously, and now no longer knew or recognised Michael. Because of this he found it distressing to visit her and had given up some time before the War. English law will not allow him to divorce Lizzie, and this was not a problem for him before he met, and fell in love with, me. I held him off for nearly a year, until he found out that, if he became a German citizen, he could legally divorce Lizzie and marry me. This was why he was in Munich, to finalise his change of citizenship and the divorce proceedings. The Sketch sent a private investigator to Munich but he returned with nothing to show for his search. I enclose a copy of his report in case it helps as well as any other details I could think of._

_If you can find him, or least find out what has happened to him, I will be forever in your debt. Thank you. Edith._

Anthony sat back, stunned. His poor, darling Edith. The man had…taken her…before wedlock, no doubt using her feelings for him against her to enable it to happen, or at least Anthony hoped that was what had happened…no, Edith would not have asked him to chase a man who had taken her by force. She must have been so lonely, and felt so unloved, if she had allowed that to happen, if she had been in such a state to let a man have her without something more than vague promises.

And why would she feel so unloved and unworthy? Grasping at any affection that any man might offer her? Any man who just happened to look like Sir Anthony Strallan?

Anthony crushed his eyelids shut with shame.

Now, that man, who may well have meant all his promises, had disappeared out of Edith's life. To her, it must have felt like history repeated. She must feel cursed. Tears escaped his misery. Stewart, who had looked up at the first gasp of his master's incredulity, saw it.

"Are you alright, Sir?"

Anthony opened his eyes and composed himself.

"Yes, yes, quite alright, thank you, Stewart. Perhaps a bit tired after last night, that's all." He gave a watery smile. Stewart knew better than to press Anthony, and instead offered him the hip-flask which the older man took gratefully.

"When we get to Munich, Stewart, I'd like to send you on a couple of errands. The sooner we gather information the sooner we can go home, right?"

"I would be glad to help, Sir."

"Would you engage any of the staff of the hotel in conversation and see if anyone noticed anything about Mr. Gregson, anything at all. They may tell you something they wouldn't tell me. That will be about all we can manage today, but tomorrow we'll start sleuthing in earnest."

"Very good, Sir." Stewart continued watching Anthony without Anthony's knowledge. He had got used to Sir Anthony being sad but resigned in the last two years. He wasn't peaceful, Stewart knew, but he had found something akin to stability. Lady Edith's unexpected reappearance and Lady Painswick's strange request had brought about a sudden deterioration in Sir Anthony's mental state. His nerves were back: the tremors and such like. The worst thing was that he didn't sleep the night before. Stewart's memory of that month before the failed wedding was wretched. Sir Anthony paced his library; he was unfailingly polite to all the staff but couldn't settle, and he didn't sleep, even when he actually went to bed to try which wasn't often. The nightmares, which had tortured him when he had come home injured, returned with a viciousness that left him drained and hopeless. Worst of all, Stewart knew that Sir Anthony hid all of this from his fiancée and her family. When Sir Anthony left the church, only Stewart was not surprised.

He wasn't sure how this new association with Lady Edith and the mission on her behalf would go. What if they found Mr. Gregson was dead? Would that sour Sir Anthony in Lady Edith's mind forever? And how would that affect Sir Anthony's health?

* * *

.

That first evening was taken up with questions of the hotel staff and long-time residents. Before retiring, Anthony sent a telegram back to Edith in Switzerland.

ARRIVED AND CHECKED INTO SAME HOTEL AS G ./ NO NEWS YET ./

At bedtime, Stewart and Anthony met up in Anthony's room to compare notes.

"So what have we found?" asked Anthony.

"Precious little that we didn't already know, I'm afraid, Sir" Stewart replied.

"You're right." As he summed up what they knew, Anthony allowed his man to help him with his formal dinner attire, which Stewart always took as a bad sign. "Gregson arrived at the hotel at about three in the afternoon from Berlin, checked into this hotel, went to his room on this floor, left the hotel for dinner at about seven o'clock and was never seen here again."

"That appears to be about it, Sir. None of the staff saw him return, his room was searched after a couple of days, and the police informed. The concierge says his effects were taken away by the investigating officers, and those effects were just a bag, a pair of pyjamas, some underclothes, and a toothbrush. He must have taken everything else with him."

"Then the private investigator appears after four weeks, asks all the usual questions of the staff, just as we're doing, gets nowhere, and returns to England." Anthony frowned with thought.

"There's something bothering me about all of this, Stewart. If Gregson came to Germany with the express purpose of taking German citizenship and securing a divorce from his insane wife, _why did he come all the way to Munich to do it?_ Munich is right in the south of the country. He could just as easily have achieved his aim in, say, Cologne or Hamburg, with much less travel and expense. _Why did he come here?_"

* * *

.

The next day Anthony visited the local library and read all the local papers from the day that Gregson arrived. They contained no clues: no unidentified bodies had been found floating in the Isar; no nameless madmen had been arrested for odd behaviour or committed because they'd lost their memory; nothing.

Stewart had been asking all the taxi drivers about Gregson, showing his photograph to them all. None of them remembered him, except for the one who had taken Gregson from the train station to the hotel on the day he disappeared.

The telegram to Edith that evening was more difficult to write. Anthony didn't want to keep sending back negative reports which might depress her.

FOLLOWING LEADS SYSTEMATICALLY ./ TAKING TIME BUT USEFUL ./ MORE TOMORROW

The day after, Anthony and Stewart visited the hospitals and the morgue, but again no one remembered anyone named Gregson nor anyone who looked like the man in the photograph.

That evening's telegram was shorter, to try to cover up their lack of progress.

STILL SEARCHING BUT WILL CONTINUE SENDING REPORTS TO REASSURE YOU ./

The next day Anthony began a new strategy. When he spoke to people, he didn't say he was English, or that he was looking for an Englishman. He merely asked, in his perfect German, if anyone had seen his friend, the man in this photograph. Since the War it had not been unknown for brothers-in-arms to go looking for one another after they had lost touch. Anthony toured the hotels and restaurants asking wherever he went, and finally he met with some success.

"Oh, yes, I know him, or at least someone who looks like him. He comes here sometimes to eat" the waiter said.

"When was the last time he came?"

"About, oh, three weeks ago, perhaps."

"Really?"

"Yes. He's very well-off, at least he tips very well. He lives somewhere out in the country on a big estate, but when he's in town he will dine here…sometimes with his wife" said the waiter.

* * *

_**Wow! What a reception! I hope that I can live up to your expectations with this story! Thank you all so very much.  
**_


	3. Waiting

**Waiting**

_._

For the last few days, Edith had definitely looked forward to dinner, Rosamund had noticed. It wasn't just that she ate quite noticeably for two now. There was the nightly telegram from Sir Anthony to read, and discuss with her aunt, often at great length and stretching Rosamund's credulity out of his few words. After all, how much hope could one really garner from "STILL SEARCHING"?

But Edith had been in a better mood since Sir Anthony had left for Germany and that was good enough for Rosamund.

* * *

.

Edith did look forward to receiving Anthony's very short reports. She liked it that he still had his almost telepathic understanding of her fears that he always had, even before the War. It was one of the things that made her feel so safe with Anthony…and, of course, it turned out that that sense of security was so misplaced. No one else would have done what he did.

She still couldn't quite believe it of him; her quiet, loving, unassuming Anthony jilting her, doing something so dramatic and destructive. The feelings from that day had ebbed in the last two years, but just two short conversations with the man had dredged them up so painfully once more. And to her astonishment, it had also brought some not so painful emotions too. She remembered how much Anthony and she had in common, how they had stood together to face the world…a world neither of them felt comfortable in. Michael had never truly understood how she could feel so…remote and out of place sometimes. He'd always pointed to the fact that she was an Earl's daughter: surely she of all people could face anything!

She remembered how Anthony and she liked to make each other laugh, and how easy it was to do it because they shared the same sense of humour and knew that if a joke fell flat the other one wouldn't mind a bit. She felt again something she had never felt with Michael. Michael provided stimulation, and excitement, but also danger. Now that the risks she had run had turned bad on her, Edith realised just how little appetite she had for such uncertainty. With Anthony she had again felt that stillness, an overriding calm when he was near. Safety. Security. Tenderness.

* * *

.

A couple of days after Anthony went to Munich there was, as usual, a telegram for Lady Edith Crawley waiting when she went down to dinner. She opened it eagerly, read it, and stared at it silently for a long time. Rosamund had to prompt her.

"Well, what is it? Has Sir Anthony found him?"

"It's from Papa. You better read it." Her voice was flat.

MURRAY REPORTS DOCUMENTS SIGNED BY YOU FILED WITH HIM ./STOP./ CALL ME QUICKLY ./STOP./

"What does he mean? What's this all about, Edith?"

"I signed a document for Michael before he left. He said it was to do with his private accounts and suchlike. I assume something must have come up. I'll go and book a telephone call for after dinner."

* * *

_._

"Edith, can you hear me?" Robert's voice was loud, as always.

"Yes, Papa. I got your telegram. What's the matter?"

"Did you sign anything for Gregson before he left?"

"Yes, I signed a document that gave me some authority for his business interests…" her voice trailed off. She hadn't actually read the document that she had signed, because she trusted Michael, had trusted Michael.

"You were aware of what you signed, Edith? You are sure?" urged her father.

"No, Papa, I'm not sure of anything anymore."

"Edith, listen, Gregson, or more likely his agent, have presented an affidavit signed by you confessing to being Correspondent in Gregson's divorce. Did you know what you were signing Edith? This has already made it into the papers here. Have you any idea how much damage you have done to this family's reputation? Murray is working to try to recover any shreds of dignity, but if you signed this piece of paper, Edith…Edith?!..."

But Edith didn't respond. She let the receiver drop, ignored the concierge calling to her, and walked out into the snowy night.

She walked until the street lights petered out and she could see the stars in the frosty night sky through the pine canopy.

"Why, Michael, why? Why did you do that? Why do I trust untrustworthy men? Why couldn't I fall for someone who would love me as I loved them, just for once? What is wrong with me?"

Neither the stars nor the woods replied but she enjoyed her solitude with them: it was as near to comfort as she felt she would ever get again. The cold was welcome after the burning shame on her cheeks, and the darkness hid her tears. She continued walking.

* * *

.

After half an hour, Rosamund had followed her niece out to the telephone to see what was taking so long. She knew her brother was apt to make mountains out of molehills, and she didn't want Edith getting bothered by him in her condition.

What Rosamund found was the Manager of the hotel frantically talking to his staff. When he saw her, he broke off immediately to inform Lady Painswick what had happened.

"What do you mean, 'she just walked out'?" In her panic, Rosamund was losing her temper with the Manager, who in truth was just as worried as she was.

"Lady Edith, she…she stopped talking to the gentleman on the telephone and walked out of the hotel, madame, with no coat or anything. By the time the duty concierge had managed to chase out of the front door to stop her, she had disappeared. We have sent a porter to try to find her."

"Well, send another!" Rosamund shouted. The argument was stopped in its escalation by the arrival of the porter carrying Lady Edith, her clothes dripping wet, and her skin a definite shade of blue.

"Quickly, take her upstairs to her room, we must get her warm again. Alina! Get one of the other maids to bring hot water up to Lady Edith's room, and hot water bottles. And more blankets."

Rosamund was glad of the Manager's efficiency, because she couldn't quite take in what had happened, because it had all happened so quickly. But with Crawley courage she pulled herself together, and drew the Manager close.

"Send for a doctor, and tell him that Lady Edith is nearly five months pregnant."

The Manager nodded. The information was hardly news to him, but he understood the need for discretion, and ushered Lady Painswick upstairs with her niece.

* * *

.

The doctor had visited, stayed and then returned to his surgery, promising to come back. At first he thought that Lady Edith had just fainted and got cold; that she would come around once she was warm again. But Edith hadn't come round, even after her cheeks had recovered their pink glow and her temperature had returned to normal.

The doctor had examined her again, more thoroughly, taking her temperature again and again, the reading rising with each observation. Finally he had announced that Lady Edith had obviously been in an overwrought state before the upsetting telephone call from her father. She must have had a bug, which had taken hold of her while she was out in the cold. In short, she had a fever. Both she and her baby were in danger, and the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours would be crucial.

Rosamund, even in her state of shock, put through a call to Downton to tell Robert what had happened, and to ask what had upset Edith so much. In a manner significantly more contrite than when he had spoken to Edith, Robert told her.

Then Rosamund returned to Edith's side. Around midnight, she was persuaded to retire. Their maid would stay with Edith and call her if her condition changed.

It was then that the Manager suddenly remembered the second telegram that had arrived for Lady Edith. He had forgotten it with the emergency. He gave it to Rosamund who opened it and read

HAVE A LEAD ./STOP./ HOPE TO SEE GREGSON TOMORROW ./STOP./

She leaned over to Edith with the news.

"Edith, darling. Can you hear me? I've just read Sir Anthony's telegram. He thinks he's found Michael! You've got to get better, Edith, we've found him! You can see him if only you get better!"

Edith stirred, and tried to murmur. When Rosamund listened to the husky word Edith was trying to say, she heard "Anthony…Anthony."


	4. Discovering

**Discovering**

_._

_Gregson…has a wife…here in Germany?!_

Anthony's heart stopped, but he kept his face straight as he responded to what the waiter had said.

"I didn't know he was married."

"He married her at the end of the War. It was very romantic. They told us the story when they were here for their anniversary. He was wounded, she was a nurse at the hospital. When he was discharged, they married. He had to go abroad on business, for quite some time, but he is back for good now. It is very sweet."

"Well, I _am_ glad for him! Do you know the lady's name? Do you know where I can find them?"

"I think most people round here know her: Countess Gisela von Neunhof. She is a very generous benefactress to the hospitals and the people who live around her estate, which is somewhere out in the countryside, as I said, but I'm not entirely sure where. I wish you luck finding your comrade."

Anthony thanked him. He and Stewart left the restaurant and walked a little way before they turned to look at each other.

"Well, what do you make of that, Sir?"

"Let's hope he's talking about someone else, shall we? But we have to check. Could you go to the Town Hall and see if you can find the Countess's address? I'm going to send a telegram to my friend Percy Wilbye and ask him to do a bit of sleuthing back in London. If this is Gregson, he has woven a very complicated web for himself."

_And I am going to kill him. No…no! I mustn't. I mustn't even think it. But I must impress upon him what he has done to Edith…the consequences of his actions. And I will drag him back to Appenzell by his hair if I have to._

* * *

.

Back at the hotel, Stewart showed Anthony an address and a set of directions provided by a very obliging clerk at the Town Hall who seemed to receive requests such as this on a regular basis. She was very happy to put two old soldiers back in touch.

Anthony himself decided to spend the rest of the day back at the library, looking up anything he could find in the local press about the Countess. What the waiter had said appeared to be the truth: she was well-known, and well-loved. When the War had come, she hadn't abandoned the place where she was born, or the people for whom she felt responsible, but instead set up homes and hospitals for returning soldiers. She had carried on her philanthropy after the Armistice, providing work and relief for those who found themselves in the hardest of times. Her marriage was not reported, but that proved nothing.

Percy's reply was waiting at the hotel when he came back for dinner.

YOU WERE RIGHT ./STOP./ MRS ELIZABETH GREGSON LIVES IN ACTON ./STOP./ SHE'S QUITE WELL ./STOP./ MICHAEL GREGSON SERVED IN ROYAL FUSILLIERS MIA 1917-18 ./STOP./ NO RECORD OF HIS RETURN ./STOP./

That evening Anthony wrote the telegram to Edith that she never read, but which Rosamund read to her.

HAVE A LEAD ./STOP./ HOPE TO SEE GREGSON TOMORROW ./STOP./

He hoped that he hadn't raised Edith's hopes unnecessarily, but he had a feeling that he and Stewart were on the right trail.

Anthony worried all that night. He hadn't been sleeping well anyway. He knew Stewart had been trying to put a mild sleeping draught into his cocoa without his knowledge; he could taste the horrible stuff even over the chocolate. But he was grateful to Stewart's care, and drank it without saying anything, knowing it probably wouldn't do any good. All it did was make him drowsy and a little more relaxed, but that was a blessing in itself.

The next day would, hopefully, answer a lot of questions. The main thing, though, was to get Gregson to face up to his responsibilities towards Edith. If the man was already married…possibly twice over!…that was going to be easier said than done, even if the man was willing to acquiesce to Anthony's demands.

Anthony was a mild man, but now he felt an unaccustomed hatred in his guts for the man. Gregson seemed to possess an easy charm that women found irresistible. That was enough to make awkward, crippled, old Sir Anthony Strallan jealous, even though under other circumstances he would have waved away such thoughts. But Gregson had obviously been aware of his effect upon women and was willing to use it against them and for his own advantage. Worse still, he had used the chaos caused by the War to progress his little plans against these three women…and perhaps others as well that Anthony didn't know about. When Anthony compared Gregson's experience of the War to his own…

Anthony stopped himself thinking like that. Gregson had been posted missing in action, he'd probably had been wounded to end up in a German hospital. He had no idea whether Gregson had acted honourably in the War. There again, he couldn't believe that he himself had acted honourably in the War. Others thought he had; he was not so sure. He was absolutely certain that he had not acted nobly in relation to Lady Edith Crawley, and she had deserved so much more, so very much more. That was what he had to keep in mind tomorrow. The happiest ending this mess could have would be Gregson agreeing to marry Edith, and being free to do so, before her baby was born, and then living happily with her, taking care of her as she should be. Then Anthony could fade into the background again with at least some of his peace of mind restored.

* * *

.

The house was in the style of a Bavarian castle, but it wasn't as big as the ones one saw in travel books. In fact, it was probably no bigger than Locksley. The grounds were not extensive, but well kept. Part of Countess Gisela von Neunhof's provision for old soldiers was to employ them as gardeners, and every bit of ground had been turned over, not to flowers, but to vegetables.

The taxi drove up to the door, Stewart alighted, and opened Anthony's door for him. A butler appeared looking very correct.

In German, Anthony gave his name, not hiding his nationality, and explained that he had served in the War and was looking for an old comrade-in-arms, showing the photograph of Gregson, but not saying his name aloud. The butler widened his eyes and asked Anthony to enter.

"I will see if the Countess is available to see you" he said and left the hall before Anthony could say anything further. The inside of the house was as old-style in its architecture as the outside. And just like the outside, the inside went directly against trying to uphold the old, pre-War position of the nobility. It was sparsely decorated, and what was there attempted to make the place look like a warm, welcoming home, rather than a stately one. There were rugs, not suits of armour. There were simple curtains, not tapestries. It was spotlessly clean.

A tall, handsome woman approached Anthony with fast, decisive steps.

"You are Sir Anthony? And you served with my husband?" she asked with no fuss.

Anthony faced her, bowed his head briefly, and, with studied politeness, clicked his heels. The courtesy was not lost on the Countess, especially coming from an Englishman.

"My name is Sir Anthony Strallan, yes, and I served on the British side in the recent conflict, but I confess I did not serve with your husband. I am looking for a man called Michael Gregson: this man." He showed her the photograph.

"Yes, this is my husband, and I know that he was born with the name Michael Gregson, though he has not used it for years. Why are you looking for him?"

"My lady, what I have to say is painful for me to tell you, and it may be painful for you to hear. Might I suggest we sit?"

"Nothing you can say to me can be more painful than what I have lived through, not knowing the truth. Come through" and she led the way to another simple, pleasant room, indicating a sofa. Once they were sat, she waited for Anthony to speak.

"Countess, are you aware that Michael Gregson was married in England before the War?"

"That's impossible. He couldn't have married me if that were the case, Sir Anthony. I fear you are mistaken." Anthony looked into her beautiful, blue eyes. He saw there only honour, and the witness to too much suffering. She was undoubtedly telling the truth.

"I believe I have guessed what happened, but please…tell me…when you met your husband, it was in a military hospital, yes?"

"Yes. In 1917."

"And he was suffering from…a head wound?" Anthony was striking out in the dark, feeling as he went.

"Yes. He had survived a mortar attack. Our troops found him and brought him to the hospital as a prisoner-of-war."

"What name did he give?"

"He gave no name to begin with. Eventually he decided his name was Marcus Gruman. I was intrigued because it sounded German, and we got talking. He's a wonderful man, Sir Anthony. He bears no malice…to anyone. We fell in love. His…wound…bothered him in sporadic episodes, and he remained in the hospital, rather than a prisoner of war camp, until the end of the War. Once he was well enough, we married, and I brought him here."

"And he was well until…?" Anthony asked.

"Why do you think he was not well?" The Countess was cautious, and Anthony couldn't blame her.

"Because he returned back to England and lived a life there, a full life, until four months ago. I don't know when he returned. Can you, would you, tell me why he returned?"

"In 1919, he returned to see a specialist, at least that's what he said. There was…" She stopped talking abruptly, and seemed to be attempting to compose herself.

"My lady, I am very sorry to ask you these questions, and to make such assumptions. Perhaps it is time I told you what I know, and why I am here?" Anthony gave her a sympathetic look.

"Yes, please do."

"I have a very dear friend called Lady Edith Crawley." The Countess recognised the name, and a look of pain crossed her face, but she didn't interrupt Anthony.

"She began writing for a newspaper called _The Sketch_ about eighteen months ago, at the invitation of its Editor, Michael Gregson. Lady Edith tells me that Mr Gregson wanted to marry her, but he could not because he was already married to a lady called Elizabeth who was committed to an asylum for the insane. Four months ago, Mr Gregson left London to come to Munich to take German citizenship since German laws are different and divorce on grounds of insanity is legal. It was his intention to secure his citizenship and the divorce and return to England to marry Lady Edith as soon as possible, since she is carrying his child."

Throughout his narrative, Gisela had reacted with gasps and tears. It took her a few minutes to be in charge of her voice.

"The truth is…my husband lost his mind on the battlefield, Sir Anthony. He is innocent, truly…I swear! He does not know what he has done. It's as though his fractured mind has kept the parts of his life completely separate, and he is only well when that is stable. When the different parts of his life collide, he feels immense guilt and his reason escapes him. He didn't tell me he had an insane wife, I didn't know until you just told me, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to marry him!"

"Actually, Mrs Elizabeth Gregson is not insane, my lady. She is alive and well and living just outside London."

"Oh, how awful for her! I am so, so sorry!"

"Please, Countess. I don't know what she thinks of her husband or what has happened to him. I have not met or contacted her. I don't even know if the marriage was a happy one. But I presume yours was?"

"Oh, we were so happy! He was attentive, and romantic, and marvellous. He supported me in my work here for the people, and revelled in it. Then…" Her tears prevented her saying more.

Anthony gave her a minute and then prompted her gently.

"What happened, Countess?"

"A guest came to stay…an old friend…who had been to England just before. She talked about England to Marcus, because she thought he would like to hear of his country. To begin with he seemed to enjoy it, but slowly he began to act strangely. She left after a few days, and Marcus couldn't settle. He paced about the house and grounds. He couldn't sleep. He started speaking English instead of German without realising it. Finally he decided he had to go back to England and settle a few things and to see the specialist. I thought it would help…that it would help him lay a few ghosts, and that he would come back to me restored. I could not go with him because of my work here. But he stayed in England for much longer than we'd agreed; letters from him became few and then stopped. To my shame, I…I believed he had abandoned me, and I confess I gave up on him." Anthony passed her his pocket handkerchief which she took gratefully.

"Months went by and I got on with life; I knew I wouldn't find anyone like him again, so I threw myself into my work here. There is so much to do!"

"So, it seems your husband began to work again as a journalist, as he had before the War, and was quickly promoted to Editor of _The Sketch_ where he met and fell for my friend. Would you mind telling me when you heard from Mr. Gregson last?"

"But that's it, Sir Anthony. He's here."

"Good heavens!"

"But…his mind…it's more broken than ever. He appeared on my doorstep four months ago, perfectly well, as if nothing had happened. It took me a long time to believe what he told me" said the Countess.

"Which was?"

"That he had no idea what had happened between his leaving for England on the train from Munich all that time ago, and arriving back in Munich that day. He said it was like waking up after a long and fitful sleep. I engaged doctors but they were no help at all, merely saying that…how you call it…"

"Shell shock?"

"Yes, shell shock takes different men different ways and that there was nothing they could do: if he recovered his memory: fine. If he didn't: never mind. At least he wasn't suffering. So life went on just as it had. Since I had given up on him, I didn't think I had right on my side to ask too closely what he had done, especially as I believed it might precipitate another relapse. And then…"

"Yes?"

"Foolishly I bought a copy of _The Sketch_, when I last visited Berlin. I bought other English newspapers as well, hoping that they might help Marcus remember and tell me what had happened. He read one of Lady Edith Crawley's columns, and within an hour he had broken down completely. And he has stayed in that state for over a month, talking nothing but English, which I cannot understand, and utter gibberish. I…I don't know what to do, Sir Anthony. If it has been brought on by his realising what he has done, how can I ever bring him back to me?"

"May I see him? I might be able to tell you what he's saying. But only if you are happy for me to do so."

"Do you have a photograph of Lady Edith?" asked the Countess.

The sudden enquiry took Anthony by surprise.

"As a matter of fact, I do. I keep one in my pocket book." He drew out the photograph taken as a double portrait, on the announcement of their engagement.

The Countess looked at it, and then at Anthony.

"This lady…she is very young and vulnerable, yes?"

"Yes" whispered Anthony.

"When is her child due?"

"In about four months' time, Countess."

"Without a husband she will be ruined, no? In this picture, I think you look just as vulnerable. You should look after each other, perhaps?"

Anthony swallowed hard, but could not trust his voice, so he nodded and left it at that.

Gisela led the way upstairs to a bedroom. A man lay in the bed muttering, with a nurse sitting on a chair by the bedside. She stood when she saw the Countess come in.

"Marcus? Marcus? We have a visitor…from England? His name's Anthony. He knows Edith."

Immediately, Gregson became more agitated, broken syllables of Edith's name escaped his lips in mad convulsions.

"Darling, is this her? Is this Edith?" Gisela held up the picture in front of Gregson's face.

Michael stopped murmuring, looked at the photograph for a second, and then began crying inconsolably, great heaving sobs. Anthony stood watching, his face creased with understanding and pity, while Gisela tried vainly to calm her husband. The nurse took over, suggesting to the Countess that she leave for a while until Marcus recovered. Gisela backed away and then left the room, Anthony opening the door for her and following.

The Countess wiped her eyes and straightened her back.

"What do you propose to do now, Sir Anthony?"

"My lady, I have no say in Lady Edith's affairs, I have given up that right. You see, I gave her up in the most terrible way, because I too suffer from the demons tormenting your husband. I could not do that to Lady Edith. That is why she was alone when she met…Marcus. I feel responsible for having put her in that position, but there is nothing to be gained from hurting you further, or insisting Marcus try to right anything with her. Yes, that was what I came here expecting to demand. Please believe me when I say that you and your husband have my sincerest condolences. The War did terrible things. I will return to Switzerland and tell Lady Edith the truth. She deserves that. After that, what happens will be up to her. She is not an unfeeling person, Countess. I sincerely hope that Herr Gruman recovers and that you have a long and happy marriage. I cannot begin to express my thanks to you for your openness and grace to me, today. Here is my card. Please don't hesitate to contact me should you need to."

Gisela nodded her understanding and thanks. Anthony bowed his head in respect once more, and returned to Stewart and the waiting taxi outside.

On the way back to Munich city, Anthony told Stewart what he had discovered.

"So there's no possibility of him marrying Lady Edith before the birth of their child?"

"None, Stewart. I have failed."

"You did all you could, Sir. You discovered the truth."

"The truth will not provide Lady Edith with a husband, nor her child with a father."

They sat in silence for the rest of the journey.

When they reached the hotel, Anthony approached the concierge to send the telegram he had carefully constructed in his head, only to be handed one from Lady Painswick in Switzerland.

EDITH TAKEN GRAVELY ILL ./STOP./ RETURN ASAP I BEG YOU ./STOP./ ROSAMUND ./STOP./

* * *

_._

**_Thank you all so much for all the wonderfully enthusiastic reviews! I do hope you are enjoying this._**

**_I went away for the weekend, and when I came back there were *so* many Andith stories to catch up on! Truly, the Andith Fandom is the BEST!_**


	5. Worrying

**Worrying**

_._

Stewart had never seen his master so frantic, and yet so controlled and determined. The last train from Munich would not get to Appenzell that night. They would have to break the journey overnight at Oberammergau. If they caught the first train the next morning from there, they could be back in Appenzell by mid-morning.

Anthony left Stewart settling up with reception, and sending a last telegram to Lady Painswick.

AM RETURNING NOW ./ STOP ./ HAVE FOUND ALL I CAME TO FIND ./STOP./

Anthony began to pack himself, throwing his possessions into bags and cases haphazardly in an effort to get to the train station as quickly as possible.

_I wonder if it is the baby? Or something else? Something worse?! Oh, God, please protect her!_

Stewart appeared and gently but firmly took over packing from Anthony finishing the job with more speed and fewer breakages than Anthony would have had he continued. Then master and servant found a cab and soon they were on their way back to Switzerland.

* * *

_._

Stewart offered Anthony the hip flask, but he declined and went back to looking out of the window at the Bavarian landscape in the sunset. If Edith died…

He closed his eyes, knowing that he couldn't bear her death, not before, and certainly not now when he had been working on her behalf, even though he had not achieved what she most wanted. He wondered if somehow Edith knew that he had failed her once again, and had given up on life because of it. These were thoughts borne of fear, he told himself…they weren't the sensible, rational thoughts of a modern man. But that didn't stop them torturing him.

"Perhaps it might help, Sir, if you wrote down all that you heard from the Countess? While it is still fresh in your mind? It would perhaps help when you tell Lady Edith and her aunt what you discovered?"

_A distraction strategy, and a quite obvious one, but God bless Stewart for suggesting it._

"Yes, perhaps you are right, Stewart. We have another hour or so before we get to Oberammergau."

As Anthony was taking out pen and paper, Stewart also said that he was hungry and might he fetch some sandwiches from the buffet?

"Yes, of course, Stewart. Go ahead."

"Would you like something, Sir? You haven't eaten since breakfast."

"I'm not hungry, thank you Stewart."

"Forgive me, Sir, but you will be no help to Lady Edith half-starved."

"I'm no help to Lady Edith anyway, so it doesn't matter. No…go and get something for yourself Stewart and let me be. Thank you all the same."

Reluctantly, Stewart left the carriage.

Anthony looked at the blank piece of paper. He didn't have to write down what had been said that day; it was all engraved upon his mind. Instead, he decided to write something he had been putting off for days.

_Codicil to the Last Will and Testament of Sir Anthony Philip Strallan, Bart._

* * *

_._

There were no rooms to be had at Oberammergau at this late hour. The Station Master had not allowed them to stay there, even though they had offered to kip as best they could on the platform benches rather than in the Waiting Room. After nearly an hour of walking around the town getting colder and colder, they decided to try the church, which was open.

Anthony looked around and found that no one was there.

"Well, as long as we leave something in the Poor Box, I don't suppose anyone will mind if we bed down here until six. What time is the train, Stewart?"

"Twenty minutes past, Sir."

"Good. So, Stewart, choose your pew!"

"Sorry, Sir Anthony, but…"

"What is it, Stewart?"

"This town, Sir, it gives me the creeps. It's full of carvings and frescos and Biblical scenes. Is it the centre of some religious cult?"

Anthony smiled.

"Quite the opposite, Stewart. This is perhaps the holiest place in Germany. In the seventeenth century all of Europe, including England, was ravaged by the Plague. When the epidemic was approaching Oberammergau, the townspeople prayed constantly, here in this church, offering a…a bargain to God: if he would spare them, they in return would stage a Passion Play to His Glory every ten years for the rest of history. By a miracle, the town _was_ spared, and ever since the town has kept its promise in gratitude for His mercy. The carvings are part of that, and part of the long history of exquisite woodwork done in these parts. There's nothing to be afraid of, Stewart. Settle down, and we'll both try to get some rest."

They used their coats as blankets and kneelers as pillows. It wasn't comfortable, but it was bearable and a lot warmer than the station. Anthony sat reading for a little while, waiting for Stewart to sleep. When he heard his man's steady breathing, he quietly got up and knelt at the altar.

"If you're there, you will know that my childhood's faith was severely shaken by the War. What does The Book say? "I believe, Lord. Forgive my unbelief"? By pure chance, I am here, in Oberammergau, a place so saturated with belief…a town saved from the Plague…a place where miracles happen…where prayers are answered. If you are there, hear my plea! Save Edith, and I will do anything you ask of me. She has not deserved any part of what has befallen her, not since the summer of 1914. Her life has been so unfair to her. I was unfair to her. Meeting Michael would have been the most wonderful thing to happen to her if he hadn't been broken. And now she's ill. She might even be dead already. If you will save her, I will give you my life in return. I don't know what else to offer, my life and everything in it is worth so little. I have no more words. I will have to trust that you know what I mean."

He looked up at the carving of the Christ on the Cross, muttered a heartfelt "Amen", and went back to his makeshift bed. He read the codicil making Edith's child a beneficiary of his Will again, and folded it into his jacket pocket, and waited for the dawn.

* * *

_._

Rosamund really didn't like leaving Edith, even when her eyes, swollen with weeping, began to close with sleep of their own accord; even when her feelings, worn out with worry, exhausted her. So she slept in Edith's room on a chair with some cushions and a blanket.

If only Sir Anthony would arrive back with Michael! Rosamund was sure that was what Edith was holding on for. Michael's voice would stir her, and Edith would have the strength to pull herself out of this fever. Everything would be alright then. Yes, everything would be fine.

She read the telegram for the hundredth time. Sir Anthony didn't say that he was bringing Michael with him, in fact he wasn't clear at all, blast the man! Did his message mean that he had found out where Michael was, but not gone to meet him? Like he should have? Did it mean Michael was dead?! Or that Michael had refused to acknowledge Edith? Rosamund couldn't bring herself to think that these might be true. Edith would give up for sure then.

It was so strange though. Ever since she had been brought back from the forest unconscious, Edith had only said one word: 'Anthony'; and it was getting weaker the more the fever took hold. Why his name? Why not 'Michael'?

Rosamund still couldn't sleep. She began looking through Edith's papers to see if she could find anything that she could read out to Edith, something that might help bring her back…a letter from Michael, perhaps. There were business papers, old editions of _The Sketch_, drafts of future articles, a letter from Cora…and a photograph…Edith's engagement photograph from two years ago…Edith and Anthony. She had kept it. She had brought it with her to Switzerland. Why?

Rosamund sat back down in her chair-bed and watched her niece with changed eyes.

* * *

_._

Just before lunch, the taxi screeched to a halt outside of the hotel. Stewart was left, as usual, to pay, while Anthony ran into reception.

"What news? How is Lady Edith?" he panted.

"The same, Sir. Very ill. The doctor, he is very concerned."

"Where is she?"

"In her room, Sir."

* * *

_._

The knock was polite, but didn't wait for an answer. Anthony closed his eyes and sighed before entering. Edith was in bed, deathly pale, the fever wet and cold upon her flesh which was burning to the touch. Anthony began to weep, worry and the journey catching up with him. The maid left to fetch Lady Painswick. Anthony put his hand on Edith's.

"Edith? It's Anthony. I found Michael. He loved you, Edith. He loved you so very, very much. He didn't abandon you."

Rosamund burst into the room.

"Sir Anthony. Thank God you got here in time. She's been getting worse."

"I know. I could feel it" he whispered, to Rosamund's astonishment.

"An…ny."

"She knows you're here. That's good. That's good" said Rosamund.

"Lady Edith, I promise you, I did all I could. I'm so sorry."

"An…ny."

"That's the only thing she has said since she's been ill" Rosamund told him.

"What?" he said, incredulously.

"And…look…I didn't know she still had it…but she brought it here with her. She had it in her possessions all the time, even before we knew you were here."

Anthony looked from the photograph to Rosamund confused. Then his face creased in pain and understanding, and he fell to his knees at Edith's bedside, sobbing.


	6. Healing

_**Thank you all for reading. Christmas is almost upon us, and I hope to finish this story fairly soon so I can concentrate on a Yuletide story...**_

* * *

**Healing**

_._

Rosamund watched while the man visibly collapsed, both physically and emotionally, his feelings raw and uncharacteristically left on show, unconscious and uncaring who saw them. In response, her own eyes blurred with tears. This was why the man had agreed to go to Munich so readily, so eagerly, even though he had not seen Edith in two years, even though he hadn't truly understood what was involved, even though he had nothing to gain by it.

He loved her still. He always had.

She took her seat and waited respectfully for the man to recover himself. Eventually he spoke, rubbing his eyes awkwardly.

"I do apologise, Lady Painswick. It…it has been a difficult few days."

Stewart appeared at the door, left ajar in everyone's haste, and gently knocked for attention.

"Sir? Do you require anything?"

Anthony looked up at his man, and gathered what was left of his wits. He rose to his feet.

"I think I should freshen myself up after sleeping rough in a church before I impose myself upon you, Lady Painswick, and Lady Edith again. I'm sure you will want to know what I have discovered when I am more presentable."

"It sounds like your journey was eventful, Sir Anthony. But please make haste. I have news for you too."

Anthony nodded and followed his man to their rooms.

* * *

.

Bathed and freshly shaved, and in clean clothes, Anthony sat in Edith's room in an extra chair that had been brought in for him next to Rosamund. They both looked at Edith, lost in thought after their exchange of information.

"So when Gregson tricked Edith into signing that document, the affidavit, was it to help divorce himself from Elizabeth Gregson, or from the Countess?"

"I'm almost certain it must have been to assist with the proposed divorce from Elizabeth Gregson. From what I saw and heard Gregson really did love the Countess. When he was wounded he forgot who he was, couldn't even remember his name. When he had to opt for one he chose something Germanic sounding but his unconscious mind still knew of his old life. Marcus Gruman is similar to Michael Gregson, you have to admit. If he was aware of what he was doing, if he was trying to run away from his old life, why not chose a name totally different?"

"And why come back to England if you were trying to build a new life with a new spouse?" mused Rosamund. "No, I think you are right, Sir Anthony. Michael seems to have suffered greatly. When he came back to England, he lost all memory of his new life in Germany, and deliriously convinced himself that his English wife was insane, all to protect his mind from the painful knowledge of what he had done: married another woman bigamously, whom he loved and who would be greatly hurt should the truth emerge. I don't suppose we will ever know whether he loved Elizabeth or whether that marriage was a happy one, not now."

"Probably not; Elizabeth will no doubt be very hurt when she hears of all this. And she will have heard. If the case has got to the solicitors of the parties involved, she must have been informed by now. But by the time Gregson met Edith, all these different stories that his mind was keeping separate were beginning to unravel. I do believe that he loved Edith, Lady Painswick. I don't think he intended to…to take her in, or ruin her. He meant to come to Germany, secure a divorce and marry her. I think tricking her into signing the document and filing it for an English divorce is merely evidence that his mind was clouding and leaving him. He didn't need to cite a correspondent for the German divorce, if he could prove Elizabeth was…oh! Now I see."

"Somewhere in his head he knew he wouldn't be granted a divorce on grounds of insanity because he couldn't prove Elizabeth was insane" said Rosamund.

"No…so in order to put through an English divorce, he tricked Edith into signing that piece of paper and filed for divorce before he left for Germany. When he arrived in Germany, of course, his German memories took over and his mind submerged any thoughts of Elizabeth…or of Edith."

"Until the Countess brought him English newspapers to read and his mind collapsed in on itself, unable to keep it all segregated any longer, and he lost his mind." Anthony thought back to when he had seen Gregson. "Poor man."

"And poor Edith. That is if she even survives…" Rosamund's tears forced through once more, but she controlled them quickly.

"What does the doctor say about the baby's chances?" asked Anthony, unsure whether he was deserving of asking.

"He's as vague as he is about Edith's chances. He just says I should prepare for the worst. I wish Robert were here."

Anthony suddenly felt cold. Rosamund might not mind his presence now, but he was sure Robert would.

"When were they told?"

"The same day I sent that telegram to you. It will take them a few days to get here…I fear what might have happened by the time they arrive."

"Please, Lady Painswick, please don't lose hope. Edith is young and strong."

"I know you are trying to convince yourself as much as me, Anthony. We both know that it might be for the best if…"

"No! I'm sure we can find some way of…of helping her through this. You've been sitting with her constantly for, what, two nights now? I insist that you let me sit with her tonight. I'll have the nurse here too. I will go to rest now and relieve you at eleven o'clock, and you will get a good night's sleep and be much more use to Edith because of it. No, I insist!" Anthony said firmly crushing Rosamund's objections.

* * *

.

Anthony did not rest. He spent the late afternoon and evening putting through calls to his bank and solicitors. Despite all of Stewart's complaints, he sat writing until eleven o'clock came, and he was at Edith's room punctually.

"Any change?" he asked.

"No, not really. I would have sent for you if there had been, Anthony" Rosamund yawned. "I am grateful that you were here, painful although it must be for you."

She put her hand on his disabled arm affectionately. Fear and exhaustion had blunted her social proprieties but reminded her of what was most important. Anthony covered her hand with his own accepting her unspoken sympathy.

"I…I don't think I could…if it happens…" He looked up at her and stopped himself rambling. "If I don't get a chance to tell her…I have made sure that she and her child will never need for money…_when_ she pulls through…no matter what. Michael can't look after her, and someone has to."

"I'm sure Robert and Cora…" Rosamund began rather affronted at this implied slur on her brother. Then she had a vision of how Robert might react to hearing what had been kept from him all these months. "Thank you, Anthony." Rosamund seemed to notice something with a gasp. "I'm sorry, I have dropped your title today, without your permission."

"No need. Anthony is fine."

"You are a fine man, Sir Anthony. I know why you did…what you did. I just don't understand how such a good man as you, a man so much in love, could think you didn't deserve Edith."

"I just didn't deserve her. I'm too old and incapable. And…there were…objections, Lady Painswick."

"From my mother, no doubt. I am sorry, Anthony, and please call me Rosamund."

"From Lady Grantham, yes, but also from Lord Grantham. He was quite right to do so. I shouldn't have left calling it off until the very last minute. She would not have been so badly hurt if I'd just slipped away quietly sometime during the engagement…but..."

"But you could not do it, because you loved her."

"I was selfish."

"Love can be selfish and good at the same time, Anthony." She looked at his surprised eyes, knowing she'd said enough. "I know you will, but please call me immediately there's any change."

"Of course. And thank you."

* * *

.

Anthony pulled the chair to Edith's bedside. The nurses were excellent and she was washed and clean despite the illness drawing all the colour from her skin. She looked uncomfortable, her body was not relaxed, and although no one could hear what she was saying, she still murmured.

Anthony held her hand. She had such delicate hands. He remembered watching her drive and marvelling at how she managed the great machine with those beautiful hands. He wanted to kiss her fingers, but didn't think that was right.

The night crept on. Anthony kept his vigil, occasionally renewing his prayer made in Oberammergau Church. The nights were so quiet here, just like they used to be at Locksley. All those nights when what he most wanted was to be by Edith's side. This was not what he had wished for. He wondered if she had chosen a name for the child. This poor child, offspring of a mad father and a mother so desperate for love. He would give anything, anything to be back in the summer of 1920, to make everything right. He began crying softly as he whispered her name.

Edith gave a long sigh.

Anthony looked at her, fear gripping him. Then she started breathing again, less tensely. Anthony called to the nurse to wake her from a doze. She came to examine Edith, placing her hand on her forehead, taking her pulse, counting her breaths.

"I think the fever had broken. I will call the doctor."

* * *

.

Once the doctor had been and confirmed it, Anthony knocked on Rosamund's door to tell her. She broke down and cried with relief. Then he returned to Edith's bedside once the nurses had changed the bedclothes.

Around dawn, Edith opened her eyes. The nurse gave her a sip of water. Edith held out her hand to Rosamund.

"Aunt?"

"You've been very ill, my dear, but you're getting better now."

"And Michael?"

Rosamund's face fell with disappointment. She'd felt certain Edith would ask for Anthony. She couldn't imagine how Anthony felt.

"Michael is not coming, my dear. He's not well. He's in no danger, but he can't come to you."

"But Anthony promised…"

"I'm so sorry, I did all I could…" Anthony said, regret plain in his eyes. Edith turned to look at him.

"You. What are you doing here? Get out of my room! Now!"

Rosamund couldn't believe her ears, but Anthony looked as though he had expected this dismissal. He had expected it, and it still hurt. He left her room and shut the door.


	7. Fearing

**Fearing**

_._

"Edith!" exclaimed Rosamund.

"Lady Edith is still not very well, madam" said the nurse, "This is quite usual. She will be better, more herself, after drinking a little water, and resting some more natural sleep. Then we can ask the gentleman to return."

"You will not! I never want to see him, ever!" said Edith, firmly.

"The nurse is right about one thing, dear. You must have a drink and rest." Rosamund realised that arguing with her niece when she was still suffering was of no use. After a recuperating doze, surely she would be more reasonable.

But some hours later, when Edith woke once more much more rested, she seemed almost frenzied in her desire that she should never have to see Anthony again.

Rosamund wasn't entirely sure that telling her what Anthony had discovered about Michael was wise at this point, but Edith insisted. She took the news surprisingly calmly and unemotionally.

"So you see, dear, Anthony did all he could for you. Why won't you see him?"

The mention of Anthony's name seemed to release all the tears and passion that Edith had not had for Michael.

"Because…because he always does the opposite of what he tells me to expect of him! He didn't propose when he told me he would. He didn't marry me when he told me he would. And now he hasn't been able to convince Michael to return to me when he told me he would. I can never rely on him, despite…"

Her voice dissolved into weeping.

"He did what he could, and he found Michael when no one else did. He discovered what had happened. That counts for something, doesn't it dear?"

Edith just continued crying.

"He sat with you all night…"

"You sat with me more."

"You said nothing except his name while you were ill."

That stopped Edith's tears.

"What?" she whispered, looking as though she'd just been told she'd committed murder while sleepwalking.

"You kept murmuring 'Anthony' all through your fever. And I found your engagement portrait while tidying up. Why did you bring it with you if you can't stand him?"

"It's not that I can't stand him. I just don't want to be hurt again. I can't trust him. It seems like I'm destined never to meet a man I _can_ trust."

"Oh, my dear! Anthony has never intentionally betrayed you."

Edith barked her contempt at that.

"No, it's true! Everything he has done, he did because he thought it was best for you. He's never given a single thought for the consequences for his own happiness. Do you think he wanted to bury himself alive in this…this place, for two years? Do you imagine he wanted to give up his reputation and place in society by jilting you? It wasn't pre-planned in any way, you know. He doubted he was right for you, yes, but loved you too much to give you up, until Mother gave him the final push in the church while we were waiting for you."

"What?!"

"So, you see, because you haven't seen him, because you won't talk to him, you don't know all the story."

Rosamund watched as Edith's face betrayed her shock.

"Oh, and another thing. He's set up some kind of fund for you and your child in case your father cuts you off when he gets here, which should be today by the way."

* * *

_._

When Stewart emerged from his bedroom, ready to fetch Anthony some breakfast if necessary, he found his master sorting through papers in their suite instead of in Lady Edith's keeping watch. From the number of piles Stewart guessed that he had been occupied with it for some hours.

"Sir?"

"Good morning, Stewart."

"How is Lady Edith?"

"The fever broke this morning around four, thank heavens."

"That is a relief, Sir."

"Lady Painswick is able to deal with arrangements from here on, and Lord Grantham is on his way as well. They don't need me anymore, and my presence is not welcome. We will be leaving to return to Locksley as soon as possible."

"Very good, Sir" Stewart replied although in truth he was almost panicked by this change in Anthony's plans. He had rather hoped that Lady Edith would realise how much Anthony had sacrificed for her and give him another chance. If she had set her mind against Anthony, it did not bode well for Anthony's state of mind.

Stewart went to Anthony's room and began to pack his clothes, his thoughts racing. It was when he noticed that the jacket Anthony had been wearing last night was missing that he found his way through to seeing Lady Painswick, and possibly Lady Edith as well.

"Excuse me, Sir, but the Harris tweed jacket that you were wearing last evening is not in your room."

Anthony cut his man off. "I must have left it in Lady Edith's room. Could you go to fetch it, please, Stewart? I'm busy here."

"Of course, Sir" said Stewart, walking around to Edith's side of the hotel, knowing all the while that Anthony would have jumped at the chance of going to see Edith again if he hadn't been barred from her presence. He knocked at the door, which was answered by one of the nurses.

"Would it be possible to talk to Lady Painswick?"

"Who is it?"

"Stewart, Sir Anthony's man."

"Is Sir Anthony with you?"

"No, my lady."

Rosamund appeared at the door. Stewart recognised the look on her face: she was keeping something from him, probably Lady Edith's displeasure and disapproval.

"What is it, Stewart?"

"Sir Anthony left his jacket here last night. We are packing to leave to return to Locksley, and I wondered if I might have it."

"He's leaving? But…"

"Yes, my lady, and I hope I'm not overstepping the mark when I tell you that I fear you may never see him again, not in this world."

"What?" Rosamund stared at the man fearfully. She had lost that over-composed look and was watching him with genuine feeling as she indicated that he should enter the room, no matter what her niece had said.

Rosamund turned to the nurse and asked her to leave for a moment. Once she had shut the door, she nodded to Stewart to continue talking.

"Lady Edith, first may I say how good it is to see you more yourself."

"Thank you, Stewart. You were always very kind to me."

Stewart smiled his thanks, but knowing that Edith would only listen for a short while to his pleas on Anthony's behalf, he began without preamble.

"I fear for Sir Anthony, my lady. When we were on our way back here, we were forced to break the journey at Oberammergau. Sir Anthony wanted to get back as soon as possible and would not be persuaded to wait for the through train from Munich in the morning but wanted to travel as far as possible that night, so as to be here all the sooner the next morning. There were no hotel rooms to be had, so we slept in the church. At one point, I overheard Sir Anthony praying…he thought I was asleep. He offered up his own life in return if you were restored to health. I don't think I'm betraying any great secret if I mention that he has had such...violent...thoughts before, after his return in 1918, and again in 1920."

Edith had gone pale once more. She looked down at the sheets.

"So, forgive me, my lady; I beg you to ask to see Sir Anthony again, at least see him before he leaves…please? It may save his life."

* * *

_._

**_Thank you all again for staying with me. A few more twists and turns..._**

**_It has been so wonderful to see so many Andith stories, old and new, in the last few days. Let us all hope that the Christmas Special brings us some cheer or, at least, hope..._**

**_If it doesn't, we will all live happily ever after here in Fanfictionland. Long live Andith!_**


	8. Forgiving

**Forgiving**

_._

Stewart hurried through the door to Sir Anthony with the found jacket in his arms.

Anthony looked up, and then down again at the last of his papers.

"Well done, Stewart. I knew you'd manage to find it."

"Sir Anthony, I have request…from Lady Edith."

Anthony looked up, startled.

"She would like to see you before you go."

"Are…are you sure this isn't another of Lady Painswick's ruses?"

"I heard it from Lady Edith's own lips, Sir. I believe she would like to apologise for some hasty remarks made while she was not in her true mind."

Anthony hesitated, uncertain.

"Sir?" Stewart urged.

"Yes…yes…very well. I'll…" and he left the room.

* * *

_._

There was a polite knock on Edith's door. Both women looked up, and Rosamund smiled as she went to answer it.

"Sir Anthony, thank you for coming. I know you must have so much to do to prepare for travelling back to England" Rosamund said as she ushered him to the seat next to Edith's bed.

"Not at all. Um…"

"I must go and see about some light, nourishing food for Edith. If you'll excuse me."

Anthony and Edith were left alone, neither knowing quite what to say.

"I am very pleased to see you looking more yourself, Lady Edith."

"Thank you, although I fear it'll be some time before I'm properly healthy again."

"May I enquire as to the baby's health?"

"The doctor said he could hear their heart beat this morning so we all hope that the fever has not hurt them too much. All we can do is hope and wait."

Anthony nodded.

"I wanted to say sorry for sending you away this morning. I…I was still ill and…" stuttered Edith.

"There's nothing to apologise for, Lady Edith. I am just so very glad you are better now."

A pause.

"I also wanted to thank you for all the inconvenience and expense you incurred finding out what had happened to Michael. It has put my mind more at rest to know that he did not abandon me deliberately. In time, perhaps, I can take his child to see him, but that may not be for some while, and I think I should contact the Countess for permission first."

"Even from my limited contact with her, I came to understand that the Countess is a very humane lady who bears no grudges. If you would like Michael to meet his child, I am sure she would not stand in his way if he wanted it too." Anthony's voice was even and measured.

Another pause.

"My aunt also tells me that you have set up some financial provision for us."

"It is merely a safety net for you, should anything happen…should you ever need it" said Anthony, embarrassment covering his face.

"It was very thoughtful and generous of you. Thank you."

"The least I could do, bearing in mind I am responsible for you being in this position."

"I don't understand. How can you think you are responsible?" asked Edith.

"If I had not abandoned you in 1920, you would not have been so…emotionally vulnerable when you met Michael. You would not have…given in to his demands, perhaps, and so would not be in this condition, forced to travel the continent for the sake of your reputation. I am truly sorry. If I had known what would be the consequences of my actions, I would not have left the church, I swear."

"My aunt says that you left only because of something Granny said. It that true?" Edith's eyes bore into him.

"What she said pushed me over the edge, yes. But you knew that I thought you could do so much better than me, and you could have. You still could!" Anthony was animated in his urging now.

"Even though I have an illegitimate child due later in the spring?"

"I think you are wonderful; what's to stop other men thinking the same? You could make any man feel lucky to be alive."

"Do you feel lucky to be alive, Anthony?"

"What?...Well…of course" Anthony answered, vaguely.

"Do you? Promise me that you will not do anything…rash? Please? It would kill me if anything happened to you because of me."

"I'm sorry, I don't know…"

"Stewart said that you offered up your life in exchange for mine while praying in the church at Oberammergau." Edith stated it, daring Anthony to deny it.

"Did he?" Anthony's face clouded, and he leaned away from Edith. "He should not have told you."

"He was worried about you" exclaimed Edith.

"Is that the only reason you wanted to see me? To make sure I wouldn't jump under a train!?" His sorrow plain, he tried to recover something of his usual polite stoicism.

"No, not the only reason, but it was a reason. Please promise me, Anthony?"

"Would it make so much difference to you if I were dead rather than alive?"

Edith was shocked by the question, which was really an accusation.

Anthony continued, "It has not mattered in the last two years, to you or to me. You would be significantly better off if I weren't here."

"I don't want you dead just to get your money, if that's what you're asking."

She regretted it the moment she said it.

"Anthony, I'm sorry. That…that didn't come out right. I didn't mean…"

"Please, don't distress yourself. I know what you meant."

A further pause.

"Stewart should not have worried you. When I made that…offer…and one should not try to bargain with the Almighty in any case, but…when I offered my life for yours I meant to dedicate it to better things than just hiding myself in Switzerland away from possible hurt. I intended to do as the Countess has done. Did Rosamund tell you about that? When the Countess thought that Michael had abandoned her while he was in England…with you…she threw herself into providing work for unemployed old soldiers and relief for families that had lost menfolk. I felt humbled and humiliated. I could have been doing something similar instead of feeling sorry for myself and my own loss through my own foolishness all this time. That was what I was offering. I was not intending to take my own life, I promise. Time has healed _some_ wounds."

Edith sighed. "I'm sorry I doubted you. And thank you for promising me. Forgive me for demanding reassurance from you when I have no claim upon you for it" Edith said.

"My sweet one, you can claim my service, always. I hope I demonstrated that by going to Munich so quickly at your command with no argument."

"Yes, I was very impressed and grateful for that."

"And…might I rest easy that, should you need it, you will accept the financial help I am able to give you?" Anthony asked hopefully.

"Yes, I will accept it, and I thank you for it. You are a good man, Anthony Strallan. I would not have been letting myself down in marrying you, you know."

"You are very kind to say so" Anthony whispered, tears threatening.

"It isn't kindness. It's the truth. You were giving me so much more than I was giving you."

"It didn't feel that way to me, or to your family."

"But it felt like that to me, and surely that was what mattered? I'd always wanted and needed the sort of stability you offered. I needed…I still need…foundations that I know will not shatter under me, as so many have in my life. I knew you would not have kept me caged at Locksley, but encouraged me to find my voice in the world. And I would have found that voice more quickly and with more confidence if I had had you to support me and protect me…if I hadn't had to do battle against Papa and Mary and Granny and everyone all the time. I just want you to know that you were the best man for me. What happened with Michael only underlined that."

Anthony dared to reach out and take her hand, which she held in return encouraging him.

"I believed what your family told me, rather than listening to you. I didn't fully appreciate that _they_ never listened to you either. I thought they knew more than I did. I should apologise to you for that. I'm sorry that I didn't have the self-belief to go against them and only listen to my heart, to _our_ hearts. Because I did so love you, Edith. You will never know what it cost me to walk out of our wedding."

His cheeks were wet now, but he didn't want to release Edith's hand to wipe them away.

"You will never know how it broke my heart to see you walk away."

"Lady Edith, if you still ever need the stability that I can provide, I hope you know that it is there for you. You need only ask." He looked up into her full eyes.

"Even though this child is not yours?" she asked faintly.

"Especially because the child is not mine. If that is what you want. Forgive an old man a desire to be useful."

"You are not especially old, Anthony" she smiled, and rubbed her fingers over his hand as her smile faded to seriousness once more and her tears would not be controlled.

"I do want that, Anthony. I so want to have a place, physically and emotionally, where I know I am safe, and where my baby can be protected, come what may. You don't know how I've longed for it."

"Then, you shall have it. Lady Edith Crawley, will you marry me? Will you let me give you all you want?"

"Yes. Yes, I will, Anthony. Thank you."

They held each other's hands and wept happy tears. Anthony raised her hand to kiss it, and Edith put her other hand to his face, caressing him with her touch.

There was a strong knock at the door and it opened to admit Robert Crawley, followed immediately by Cora. They stood stock still looking from Edith to Anthony. The silence was broken by Robert.

"What the **_hell_ **are you doing here?"


	9. Deciding

**Deciding**

_._

Anthony got to his feet, fumbling over his excuses. Edith was trying to explain and yet at the same time complain about how her father had burst into her private room, and how his first words were accusations about the company she kept rather than her health, but she couldn't make herself heard above Robert's ranting and Cora's attempts to calm him. Rosamund came trotting in to see what the commotion was, and soon brought everyone to attention by shouting.

"Robert!"

The quiet was a surprise as everyone turned to look at her.

"Robert, Cora, I'm so glad you've got here. As you can see, Edith's fever broke in the early hours of this morning, and she is on the road to recovery, but she will need more rest to regain her strength. This number of people in her room is not helping with that, especially _if they are all making a noise_. Perhaps, Sir Anthony, could I ask you to withdraw to allow Edith's parents to see her?"

"Of course, Lady Painswick, of course. Lord Grantham, Lady Grantham, Lady Edith." Anthony almost ran out of the door as he acknowledged everyone staring at him, but he trusted Rosamund's grasp of what would be best.

"My darling" Cora cooed, holding her hand to Edith's forehead, "you don't look as bad as I feared. Rosamund's message…"

"_Rosamund's message_ said Edith was on the verge of death, and that's why we've spent a large sum and an uncomfortable few days getting here as soon as possible." Robert glared at his sister.

"My message was very accurate at the time it was sent, and if the fever had not broken earlier this morning the doctor assures me that we would be arranging the repatriation of Edith's body now, rather than _arguing over petty details_!"

Robert looked from Rosamund to Cora and finally to Edith.

"Papa?" she said in a quiet voice.

"My darling girl, I…I'm sorry. It was just the worry coming out, I assure you. I am so glad to see you, and to find you better than I had feared." With that he kissed her forehead. Cora nodded imperceptibly at him.

"Edith, dear, I too am sorry that this wasn't the happy, peaceful reunion we all hoped for. Why don't we let you rest, while Rosamund tell us more about what's happened, and we'll see you again soon, when everyone's calmed down, mm?" Cora, as usual, had noticed far more than she let on.

* * *

_._

While Edith rested, Cora and Robert sat in Rosamund's sitting room watching her pour tea.

"We met Sir Anthony on our first night here. This is where he has been for the last two years, hiding from society and from Edith in particular. He was most apologetic and offered to leave until I had the idea that, with his German connections, he might have better luck finding Michael Gregson than that private investigator. So I ordered him to Munich. And he has been there until late yesterday when he returned."

"And did he find Gregson?" asked Robert.

"He did. Mr Gregson's lost his mind, due to a recurrence of shell shock…and he is married already…twice: to an Englishwoman, and to a German Countess. It would appear he lost his memory each time he felt traumatised by separation from the woman he had been with, and each time he built himself another life without being aware of the previous one. Finally he did remember all that had happened and the shame of it sent him mad."

"Poor Edith! Such a shock!" Cora shook her head sadly, and then without pausing, she asked, "When is she due, Rosamund?"

Rosamund looked caught out. Robert looked confused.

"Due? Sorry?"

"Don't tell me you didn't notice, Robert!?" his wife scolded.

"In about four months."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" accused Cora angrily.

"It wasn't my secret to tell, and she couldn't face telling you, either of you. I did what I could to protect her and her reputation. I brought her here out of sight. If she hadn't caught that awful fever, you need never have known. She only succumbed to illness because _you_, Robert, upset her so with that telephone call. She went out walking into the night in her shock and got soaking wet and freezing cold and when we found her she was in the grip of an almost fatal illness."

"Edith's _pregnant?_" asked Robert, ignoring everything else Rosamund had told him.

"Yes, Robert. Do keep up" said Rosamund, exasperated.

"By Strallan?!"

"Good God, no. By Gregson. Anthony has been the perfect gentleman…this time around" Rosamund said, trying to help Anthony's cause.

"And he would have been last time, if it hadn't been for you and your mother" hissed Cora at Robert.

"And he would have been the previous time, if it hadn't been for Mary" sniped Rosamund.

"What?!" barked Robert.

"It doesn't matter, not any longer. What matters is what Edith will do now!" decided Cora.

"Once she's better!" emphasised Rosamund. "She isn't out of the trees yet."

They all took a deep breath, thinking of what might have been, and pulling themselves together.

"Have rooms been arranged for you yet?" asked Rosamund.

"Barrow was sorting it out."

"Why don't we go check on them and come back to see Edith when we've freshened up?" asked Cora in her usual persuasive manner.

"Yes. Yes, good idea. There's a lot to think about" said Robert, still flustered.

* * *

_._

Once they had gone, Rosamund knocked on Anthony's door.

"Lady Painswick." Stewart bowed his head as he stood aside for Rosamund to enter. There were still piles of papers and clothes and other possessions all over the sitting room and bedrooms.

"Sir Anthony?" Rosamund called, perturbed.

Anthony came out of the bedroom, smiling at her.

"You…you're not still leaving, are you?"

"No. No. We were actually just putting everything away again, but taking the opportunity for a bit of a spring clean, that's all. How are things with Edith?"

"She's resting again. I convinced Robert and Cora to leave her alone for a bit. I've told them about Michael, and about the baby; I couldn't avoid it. Cora just knew; I assume she noticed the bump and put two and two together. There's going to be one devil of a rumpus when they go to see her next. Robert hasn't quite taken it in yet, but you know what he's like…"

"Yes, alas, I do" Anthony answered.

"I hope you don't think I'm asking too much, but I would very much appreciate it if you were there. I'm not sure I can protect Edith from their opinions all by myself. She isn't well enough to travel, and anyway, she can't return to England yet, not until she's given birth. And…" Rosamund was beginning to panic at the scenarios her mind was conjuring.

"Rosamund, please, sit down. Calm yourself. Edith…Edith has everything under control." Anthony wasn't sure if Edith would want her aunt to know what she and Anthony had agreed, or if she wanted to tell everyone herself.

"Really? How? She's only just conscious."

"She's a lot stronger than many people think."

"You're up to something" Rosamund narrowed her eyes at him.

"Nothing bad, I assure you. Edith will tell you when she's ready."

He was sure of that; sooner or later she would have to tell her family. He just didn't realise how much sooner.

* * *

_._

When Robert and Cora returned, Edith had slept a bit more and was more relaxed than she had been in a long time.

Once she'd been left alone, she'd had time to think over Anthony's offer, and to realise that this was what she had really wanted all along, ever since she bumped into him in the hotel dining room…actually ever since Michael had disappeared…in fact, ever since she had seen him walk out of Downton Church. He was the centre of her universe, and without him she had been chasing more and more dangerous pursuits and pleasures simply out of the hollowness she suffered without Anthony Strallan in her life. She had paid a high price, but by chance it had brought her back to him. Her life now felt as though it was under her control again rather than careering down a mountainside, and that it had a purpose and a meaning. She would marry Anthony, she would bear this child of Michael's, but then she would do her utmost to give Anthony the children she knew he longed for. She could continue writing from Locksley, and if Anthony set up a philanthropic foundation she could help him with that. Her future looked happy for the first time in years.

When her parents came to see her, she smiled happily at them, confident that her happiness did not depend upon their approval any more.

"You're looking better, even from just a few hours ago" Cora kissed her daughter.

"I feel better too, thank you Mama. I had a taste of some soup and I'm sure that helped." Edith looked at her father, who looked away.

"That's good. I'm glad. But we mustn't rush you; if you feel ill again, you must say" Robert answered, not saying what he was thinking.

They sat, but only a moment later, Rosamund entered with Anthony in tow.

"Robert, I know what you're going to say, but Anthony is here merely to answer any questions about what he discovered in Munich. You are going to discuss what happens to Edith now, aren't you?"

"If you feel up to it, my dear." Robert addressed Edith.

"Is there really anything to discuss now?" she answered.

"Do you still wish to give birth to the child here, my darling?" said Cora.

"Cora!" Robert huffed, indicating Anthony with his eyes.

"Anthony must know about the child, Robert. He's not stupid!"

"Still…" replied Robert, clearly uncomfortable with Anthony around.

"In answer to your question, Mama, I think I would prefer to return to Yorkshire for the birth. There is no real need for me to hide it anymore" Edith smiled at Anthony.

"Why might that be, pray?" asked Robert archly.

"Because my baby is going to be born in wedlock, Papa."

There was a very short silence, before Rosamund burst out, all joy and smiles.

"Oh Anthony, bless you! I am _so_ pleased. Oh this is wonderful!"

Anthony smiled bashfully, then walked over to the bed to take his fiancée's offered hand. Cora joined them.

"Are you absolutely sure this is what you want, my darling? It isn't just for the baby?"

"Yes, Mama. I've been chasing happiness in all the wrong places. But, thanks to Anthony, my son or daughter and I will have exactly what we need and want."

"Then I am very happy for you, sweetheart. And Anthony, I am very grateful that you were here when my daughter needed you."

"Will someone please tell me what is going on?!" bellowed Robert.

"Anthony is going to marry Edith to protect her and the baby. There will be no more rumour or scandal in the newspapers. You can tell Murray everything that Anthony has discovered and I'm sure he'll be able to sort out the Gregson divorce case" said Rosamund as though explaining the plot of an opera to a dense cousin.

"Forgive me, but I have already taken the liberty of contacting Mr Murray. I have all the documentation he needs to settle Gregson's divorce without mentioning Lady Edith, and clearing her of any smear the affidavit she signed might have caused." Anthony allowed himself a small smidgeon of pride at everyone's admiring and amazed expressions. "I…hope I've done the right thing?"

"Yes. Very good. Excellent. Thank you, Anthony." Robert looked at Anthony as though truly seeing him for the first time.

"What am I saying? Anthony, you are a Godsend! You have saved my daughter from ruin. Thank you, thank you." Robert reached out and shook Anthony's good hand enthusiastically with both his, stunning Anthony completely.

There were lots of hugs, kisses, and tears among the women, and then Rosamund insisted that they all let Cora and Edith have a quiet time together.


	10. Preparing

_**I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to update this story. I hope it was worth the wait.**_

* * *

**Preparing**

_._

Within a week, Edith was getting up and walking around. Within a fortnight, she was pretty well recovered with the occasional moment of fatigue. All the while, Cora and Rosamund were caught between the excitement of arranging Edith's wedding in Switzerland, and trying not to 'make too much fuss', which had been Edith's one condition when she said they could organise it.

The hotel manager, happy as a songbird and equally relieved that an English Lady had _not_ died in his hotel, found a good dressmaker who was willing to send a seamstress to the hotel for the measurements and fittings. Anthony insisted that all expenses should be his, since Robert had paid for the previous ill-fated wedding.

"That's easy for him to say" Robert commented to Cora, "_This_ wedding won't be a quarter as expensive!"

"He's making an effort, darling, and doing what he can."

The wedding was arranged to take place at the Anglican Episcopal Church in Appenzell. Afterwards they would all travel back to England together.

After dinner the night before the ceremony, Robert took Anthony to the gentlemen's lounge.

"How are you feeling, old chap?"

"Better than at this point last time, thank you, Robert." Anthony didn't mention that it had been Robert's disapproval for Anthony's union with his daughter that had contributed so very much to its failure.

"Good, good! I don't want to have to chase after you tomorrow!" Robert laughed as he lit his cigar.

Anthony knew that Robert meant it partly as a joke, and partly as a serious threat, but he didn't respond: he wasn't sure how to do so politely given the fury that was seething in his gut at that moment. Instead he sipped his brandy and stayed quiet.

"I wanted to have a chance to speak to you…away from the ladies." Robert was suddenly very serious, his patrician eyes boring into a now rather nervous Anthony.

"I just wanted to say that I think it is very decent and honourable of you to get Edith out of this fix. I think it is terribly appropriate that it should be you who does it. It has a satisfying symmetry to it, don't you think?"

"I don't know about that, Robert, but I am very glad to be of service to Edith. I hope it will make up in some small measure for my past mistakes."

"Exactly! That's my meaning exactly. People won't ask so many questions. They'll talk; people always talk! But they will just think it's an intriguing love story that you two found each other again. Which reminds me: Murray sent me a telegram today. He's sorted out the business with Gregson's affidavit. The few newspapers that had picked up the story have been threatened with court action should they ever put it to print. So that should all be fine. We can all go home and forget it ever happened." Robert pulled on his cigar with pleasure. All was well again.

It was then that Anthony really saw through Lord Grantham.

"Do you really think that Edith can 'go home and forget it ever happened'?"

"Well, it depends on what you decide to do with the child, I suppose. If it's a boy there will, of course, be no question about us insisting you acknowledge it. I'm not that unreasonable! Will you put it up for adoption or…"

"Excuse me, Robert, I never was one for smoking rooms. I think I'll join the ladies while you enjoy your cigar." Anthony left before Robert could say anything further.

If that was how Robert had treated Edith all through her life, then Anthony could understand how she had felt as though she was invisible. It was an appallingly thoughtless thing to say; and totally self-centred.

Anthony knew that Robert was not as selfish as all that, but he did have a habit of having shallow first thoughts, and not considering others' feelings until later…sometimes until it was too late. But from tomorrow, Anthony would be responsible for Edith and he vowed to himself that she would never feel ignored or discounted ever again. He entered the main sitting room and saw the three ladies in the corner, Rosamund and Cora chatting over Edith's head.

He looked at Edith, sat between her mother and her aunt, looking small, lost, and fragile, and his heart lurched with love and a desire to protect the woman he had almost married, and had almost lost. Tomorrow would make her his, and he hers, and he knew that nothing could induce him to give that up ever again.

Edith reached for her coffee cup and saw him approach them. Her face lit up, and his heart sang. If he could make such a difference to her, then tomorrow would be putting a great tragedy to rights; it would not be another mistake.

"You two had better say a quick 'goodnight'. We don't want to attract bad luck with the bridge and groom seeing each other before the ceremony on the wedding day!" said Rosamund, with a cheeky smirk.

"I think we've had enough bad luck already" muttered Edith as she stood.

"I was really only coming over to wish you all pleasant dreams and to say that I will see you at the church tomorrow at eleven o'clock!"

"I won't be late" whispered Edith looking at him shyly.

"Neither will I" Anthony stated firmly, before kissing her hand with formal politeness. "Good night, my dear."

Once he had gone and Edith was taking her seat again, Cora and Rosamund exchanged glances.

"Have you two talked about the child yet?" Cora began. She had told Robert to talk to Anthony about this, but didn't trust her husband to have managed his task.

"Mama!"

"Tomorrow is her wedding day, Cora. Can't the girl have any peace?"

"Well, you will have to decide about it sooner or later, and preferably sooner. Is Anthony happy to raise the child at Locksley?"

"I…I don't know yet, Mama."

"Well, it has no bearing on tomorrow, which must go ahead regardless!" affirmed Rosamund. But the discussion made Edith feel that, this time, she was the one taking advantage of Anthony…that he didn't deserve what she was about to inflict on him.

* * *

.

_He had stood at the altar of the unfamiliar church for several minutes since the priest had nodded to him indicating that Edith had arrived, but she still had not appeared by his side. He didn't want to break convention and look around. Instead he watched the priest's face as he watched her walking up towards them. What was taking so long?! Was Robert interfering again? After an age, Edith, dressed in cream with purple embroidery and draped with a long veil took her place. He smiled down at her, relieved. The priest began._

"_Dearly beloved, we are gathered…"_

"_I don't want to do this!"_

_Her voice was steady and controlled and unbelievably loud in the almost empty church._

"_Good girl!" congratulated Robert._

"_Well done, my dear" Rosamund echoed._

"_You are worth a hundred crippled, old men like him, my darling" Cora confided in a not-so-quiet voice, then turned to look accusingly at him. They all were, even the priest._

"_What made you think you could ever deserve me?" she said, contempt in her beautiful eyes._

_His voice would not obey him; he couldn't breathe. He had to get out. He began to stride down the aisle, just as he had years ago._

"_Traitor!" she shouted after him._

_._

Anthony woke to Stewart shaking him.

"Sir! Sir!"

"Edith!" he cried, finally able to speak.

"Yes, that's what I said. Lady Edith would like to have a word with you. She says it's urgent."

Anthony looked blankly at his man until what he had said registered.

"Yes, yes, of course!"

Stewart already held Anthony's dressing-gown for him.

"It's after midnight, Sir."

"Thank you, Stewart."

"I don't know if you want to observe convention, but you shouldn't see her until the church, Sir."

"Oh, yes, of course. Where is she?"

"In the sitting room, Sir."

"Tell her to turn around and I will too."

Anthony heard Stewart's professional, low voice and Edith's agreement.

"She's ready, Sir Anthony."

"Thank you, Stewart. I'll call you if I need you."

"Very good, Sir."

Stewart's footsteps padded back into his own bedroom, and Anthony walked into the sitting room with his eyes closed and turned to face his bedroom door before opening them.

"Edith, my dear? What's wrong?"

"I…I'm so sorry to…to get you up at this time of night. Now I'm here I feel very foolish." He could hear the tears being held back.

"Don't worry about getting me up, my dear. If something's worrying you, I'm glad you felt able to come and rouse me. Tell me what's wrong."

_As if I didn't know. You don't want to marry me. And you would be right to feel like that. God help me!_

"I need to know, Anthony. Do you have any misgivings at all…about tomorrow…I mean, today?"

He drew in a long breath. Should he tell her? Marriages were built on honesty, weren't they?

"When Stewart came to wake me, he broke a dream I've been having more and more these last few weeks. We are in the church and you…you stop the ceremony, just as I did at Downton, and everyone congratulates you and agrees with you that you are throwing yourself away on me. That is, was, and always will be my only misgiving. And if it is yours too, then perhaps…"

"No!" His rising panic was shocked into stillness by her vehemence. "No; I…I'm not throwing myself away on _you_. I did that with Michael. You are rescuing me, me and my..._my bastard_." The tears were overwhelming her now.

"But I don't see your actions that way at all. We've talked this through, Edith, and I don't…I don't regard you as damaged or spoiled in any way. You are just as perfect now as you were when I first knew you. And your child was conceived in love. It isn't your fault Michael couldn't marry you; it isn't his fault. It certainly isn't the child's fault. I offered you a way to live up to society's expectations rather than having to fight your way against them for the rest of your life. That is all."

"In other words, you are paying for my mistakes. I think it is unfair that you should have to. I'm not sure I can accept such sacrifice."

This needed all the care that he could muster in his panicked state.

"Edith" he whispered taking a step backwards towards her, "Edith. If you really do not wish marry me tomorrow…today…I will respect your choice, but I…I will feel as though I have failed you again…and…and I don't know if I could survive that. That's the honest truth."

She heard the sob he tried to hide.

"Really?" Her small voice seemed very close. "You really want to…?"

"Yes! With all my heart. I want to give you all that I took away from you before…and give you more to make up for the hurt and humiliation I have dealt you. Please! Please, let me do this. I want to spend my life putting right the mistakes I have made and the pain I have put us both through. Please."

Something inside her settled back into its proper place, and she was sure again that Anthony wanted it as much as she.

"Thank you, Anthony. I don't know how I will thank you."

Then something happened she had not expected. She felt Anthony's good arm wrap around her shoulders, with a little awkwardness that she attributed to his keeping his eyes closed. She nestled against him allowing him to hug her more comfortably.

"You have thanked me already for agreeing to this marriage. I promise that it will be as much or as little as you want, I don't want to chain you to me. You will have everything you want or need, everything that I can provide for you, just to thank you for letting me do this, letting me look after you. It's an honour I can never deserve."

"You do deserve it, Anthony. You are the most wonderful man I ever met." She hugged closer still.

"Even more than Michael? No! You don't need to answer that! It was unfair of me to…"

"Yes."

He wasn't sure he heard her correctly.

"Sorry?"

"Yes, you are more wonderful than Michael. Poor Michael suffered, but at the foundation of his sufferings was selfishness. I can't think of a single action of yours that was done for your own satisfaction alone, Anthony. There are many reasons I am going to marry you today, and that is certainly one of them."

He gave a sigh, and rested his head on hers. Finally, he thought he could trust his voice.

"Thank you, Edith. I will not fail you."

They stood there quietly, eyes shut, arms holding each other for a little while more, before they became self-conscious. Anthony cleared his throat.

"Well, we'd best be trying to get some sleep, then. It's going to be a big day!"

He called for Stewart who took Lady Edith's hand and led her safely to the door where she opened her eyes and called out 'good night' to them both.

Stewart walked to where Anthony had been standing, eyes still closed.

"She's gone, Sir." He touched Anthony's shoulder, only to cause him to double up and release the sobs he'd held back.


	11. Celebrating

_**The wedding...thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. This isn't the end...there will be more once they get back to England.**_

**Celebrating**

_._

She thought the spring flowers outside her window were stunning: tiny alpine plants and bulbs in every shade and hue. The mountains beyond looked pristine, dusted with the last of the snows, and the sky was the same colour as _his_ eyes, the man about to be made her husband. Finally.

As the maids made everything with her dress just right, Edith looked out at the scenery and admired the spring which seemed to have arrived overnight. In reality it had been there for over a week, but she had not seen it.

Her mother took delivery of the bouquet and brought it over to her. It, too, was perfect, Edith thought. The florists had carried out her wishes to the letter.

"They've done very well! These crocuses are an amazing shade of blue, don't you think, Edith?" Cora grinned as she caught Edith's own smile; a confirmation of a secret discovered. Perhaps Rosamund was right after all.

The maids finished and stood away.

"Perfect. Just right, thank you."

Once they'd gone, Cora took both her daughter's hands and looked at her.

"You look beautiful, my darling."

Edith sighed. "Rounder at the middle than I should be."

"But not so very noticeable. The dressmaker did very well…considering."

Edith glanced at Cora, feeling defensive. But she calmed herself. No matter what they said about her, no one was going to made snide side-swipes at Anthony today, and for that she was grateful.

* * *

_._

Stewart took his time shaving his master. Anthony had slept a little around dawn, but otherwise had spent a very disturbed night. When he came to shave himself, he found that he couldn't hold the razor steadily enough and had to call for his man's help.

His feelings lurched chaotically between knowing that Edith needed his name and protection…just as much as he desperately wanted to give those to her, and feeling that he was putting himself in her way, between her and the life she deserved to live, as ever.

"All done, Sir, and not even a nick! I'm quite proud considering I haven't shaved you for over a year. You are quite independent now, but I think most gentlemen would want back-up on their wedding day!" Stewart wiped the last of the shaving cream away, but Anthony didn't move.

"Sir?"

"What? Oh, yes…well done, Stewart. That was very comfortable. Wouldn't do to turn up today of all days with my throat cut, would it?"

Anthony smiled a watery smile.

"No. Sir." Stewart's tone was stern. He caught Anthony's eye and an unspoken admonishment passed between them.

"No, quite. Stewart, you have been the closest thing to a friend that I have had in years. Thank you for all you've done for me. Truly, I will be honoured to have you as my Best Man today."

"You're very welcome, Sir."

"It will be the end of some troubles and the beginning, I fear, of a whole raft of new ones" said Anthony as he tried, and failed, to tie his cravat.

"Is Lady Edith likely to make much trouble for you, Sir?" Stewart asked as he took over tidying the silk around Anthony's neck.

"Oh not intentionally, I'm sure. No. But…well, I had almost come to terms with never seeing her again. And now…I'll see her everyday."

"I'm sure you will both be very happy, Sir."

"She doesn't love me, Stewart" Anthony stated baldly. "This is purely a marriage of convenience to save her reputation and that of her child. I should have told you before. I…I don't know how I will cope, Stewart. I love her so."

Stewart frowned.

"We will manage, Sir, somehow. Still, surely it's better to have her safe at Locksley rather than see her dragged through the gossip columns, isn't it, Sir?"

Stewart held out the morning coat and Anthony eased it onto his body, followed by the wretched sling.

"Of course, of course. I am doing the right thing…in the short term at least. Yes. I'm sure. Later, she and I can sort something out more…appropriate."

* * *

_._

He stood at the altar waiting for her to take her place at his side. He kept his eyes on the priest, alert for the slightest hitch. There was none. He felt her presence behind him, and then she was there, dressed in cream, just as she had been in his dreams, but with blue embroidery and holding a bouquet of bright blue crocuses, the same colour as his eyes. He gazed at her through the long veil to see a mirror-image of his own nervousness. She looked terrified. He smiled at her, trying to be encouraging. She immediately smiled back, as though she'd been waiting for his acknowledgement, her happiness at seeing him evident.

Anthony ignored Robert who was trying to be both protective of Edith and stand in the aisle behind them so Anthony couldn't bolt without bowling into him. Instead, he took Edith's hand in his and kissed it, delicately.

"My dear" he whispered, as she responded by squeezing his fingers. It was all the reassurance she needed.

They turned to face the priest, and their future together.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here…"

The priest intoned the introduction and then suddenly they were exchanging vows.

"Anthony, will you take Edith to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"

"I will." His voice was sure and steady. He looked at Edith throughout almost numb with anxiety to get this right for her sake. He continued looking while she made the same vow, wondering if he would ever find out if she meant it.

"I, Anthony Philip Strallan, take you, Edith Josephine Crawley, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy law. In the presence of God I make this vow."

He meant every word, knowing that his love would be tested on a daily basis for the rest of his life. He released her hand, and she, ignoring what they had agreed at the rehearsal, deliberately took his right hand hanging in its sling, as she made her vow, keeping her eyes locked with his. There was real feeling there, he could see it and feel it. The priest, Rosamund, her parents, and all the church disappeared. Alone, outside of time, they stood, hand in hand. _If only…_

They exchanged rings, the priest said a prayer and a blessing, and it was done.

Anthony continued gazing at his new wife incredulously, and became aware that she was expecting him to do something. In a trance, he lifted her veil and bent close to her to touch his lips lightly to hers. It was their first kiss. And for all he knew, their last. But he couldn't feel sad, not when she gave him that dazzling smile, and took his arm, and walked by his side as _his_ lady. It made his chest swell with pride. His heart felt like a lion's. He had married Lady Edith Crawley…_Lady Edith Strallan_…his wife!

The wedding party made their way back to the hotel. Toasts were made, hugs and kisses exchanged. Anthony had hired a horse and carriage to take Edith for a ride out to the pastures while Stewart supervised the packing up of all their chattels ready for the journey home.

"Well, my dear, we've crossed the Rubicon. Any qualms?" he asked as steadily as he could, while pretending to look over the fields and listen to the horses' hooves.

"None whatsoever. You?" she shot back. He turned round to look at her.

"None at all, ever. I've made plenty of promises today, Edith, so a few more won't hurt. I will never regret marrying you. I'm only sorry it took a tragedy to get us to this point."

"My mother wants me to talk to you about the child. She…"

Anthony put a gentle finger against her lips.

"Shh, my dear. Your father tried the same thing with me yesterday. I'm afraid I rather told him where to go. That might be why he was so jumpy at the church."

"The Champagne seems to have brought him back to normal, though. But don't you think we _should_ talk about the baby?"

"There is plenty of time. There is nothing to worry about. I want you to keep the child and raise it at Locksley, if that is what you want, but I'm not pressuring you to make any decisions today. Let us enjoy spring in Appenzell in all its glory, on our last day here in the place where we found each other once more, secure in the knowledge that whatever you decide, I will support you. I promised to honour and protect you today, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

He took her hand and kissed it again.

"I'm never going to get used to this, Anthony" she wept happily.

"I recommend you do, my dear, because I'm not going to stop."


	12. Homecoming

**Homecoming**

_._

Rosamund sat in the afternoon sun writing at her desk in her Paris hotel room where the party had broken the journey for a couple of days. Edith was resting, which she undoubtedly needed after the long train journey from Zürich, and Anthony had insisted on staying close by in case she wanted anything. Robert and Cora had taken the opportunity to sightsee and had gone to Les Deux Magots. So Rosamund had some time to write to Violet, which she had done at least every week since Edith and she had left Yorkshire nearly six months earlier.

_Dear Mama,_

_I hope this arrives with you before we do, but one never can tell with long-distance postal services._

_The wedding went off very well. Everything happened as it should and very smoothly too. Anthony stayed the course…and more. Much more. His behaviour betrays him, poor man, and I am even more convinced now than when he broke down by her bedside that he still loves Edith, that his love has never wavered since he courted her in Yorkshire. Now that he has a legitimate reason as her husband to pamper her and anticipate her every need, he does so with relish and aplomb. I have never seen a man so besotted. He treats her as if she was a goddess and he was her high priest, or her slave. Not that Edith encourages him, not really. She is polite and shows her gratitude, but they have agreed to continue to have separate bedrooms for the journey home and she seems not to notice how much he cares for her. Perhaps she needs time to let her feelings for Gregson subside before she can see the wealth of love that lies waiting for her under her very nose._

_She is tired from travelling and the excitement of the marriage, but otherwise the pregnancy appears to be progressing normally. We will really only know whether the child escaped harm from the fever when he or she is born. I have not been able to ascertain what arrangements Anthony (and, I suppose, Edith) mean to put in place for the baby, despite my best efforts and those of Cora and (for what they are worth) Robert. I'm not even sure that they have discussed the problem yet. But you are quite right: it should be discussed sooner rather than later._

_Robert and Cora remain well and are taking in the _sites de Paris _(I told you my French had improved!). We leave on Thursday to make the boat to Dover on Saturday. We should be back in London on Sunday evening, where we will part: Robert and Cora will stay with me at Eaton Square and then return to Downton on Monday while Anthony and Edith will stay at Strallan House (which is in Brook Street hear to Hanover Square) while she rests. They hope to be back at Locksley by the end of that week._

_With love,_

_Rosamund_

* * *

_._

"Well, personally, I don't think it's a patch on Claridge's" said Robert.

"Perhaps, but it's still charming. Try not to spoil it, darling."

Robert twitched an eyebrow at his wife in assent.

"Do you think she's done the right thing? Really? I still have misgivings about Strallan."

"Oh, Robert. You've seen how he dotes on her! She couldn't be better looked after."

"I don't doubt that he cares for her. I'm worried that ultimately he is governed by something other than care or kindness."

"What?"

"A sense of duty and honour. If the child turns out to be a boy, I fear for what he might do."

"I don't believe Anthony would have married her if he had qualms about that. He's a thoughtful man; he would have thought about it."

"Let us hope so."

"You are forgetting something, Robert. Anthony loves Edith."

"Are you really sure?"

"Positive."

"I am not."

* * *

_._

Anthony went over the options open to him and his wife one more time, not because he wasn't sure, but in case he had missed some ideal solution. They could allow the child to be adopted and never see him or her again. That was unthinkable. They might be able to foster the child out to some family until they could find a way to bring them back to Locksley with no hint of scandal, which was not a happy arrangement for anyone; or they could raise the child at Locksley, either with or without his acknowledgement. It was out of the question for him to allow Edith to be exposed to ruin by not formally recognising the child as his if she wanted to keep it. Even if people believed the child to be Gregson's, if Anthony acknowledged the child there could be no possibility of a scandal. But if he did that and the child proved to be a boy, then Gregson's bastard would inherit his title, Locksley, and all that generations of Strallans had built. It was abhorrent. Anthony could hear his father calling him a soft-hearted, idiotic coward just for considering it. But the title and the estate were his; they had been for nigh on twenty years; he could do as he pleased. What was the point of being a baronet if you couldn't exercise the right to make your own decisions and mistakes while you held the title? He would bear the (imagined) scorn and derision of his ancestors, he decided once again, gently, but irrevocably. For Edith and her sake.

He heard her stir and walked over to the bedroom door, knocking softly.

"Edith, my dear? Are you alright?"

She opened the door and smiled at him.

"Anthony, you worry too much. Please don't feel you have to keep asking me that."

"Only if you solemnly promise to tell me if you feel the slightest bit unwell."

"I promise" she said. She came out into the sitting room, supporting her now much more swollen belly. Anthony, anxious to help, gave her his good arm as she eased herself down into a chair.

"Do you fancy a cup of something? Perhaps a sandwich, or a cake?"

"Actually, some pâté and toast would be wonderful, thank you, Anthony."

Immediately, he rang down to room service.

"Thank you."

"It's the least I can do, and it is my pleasure."

She sighed and looked away.

"Anthony, might we discuss what will happen to my baby? I would like to know."

"Know? Do you think I would impose my own decision on you, Edith?" Anthony frowned.

"Perhaps not impose, but I think you have rights in this. You married me to rescue my reputation and…and in a way to save my life. I would have been ruined if…"

"My dear, Rosamund's scheme would have worked perfectly well as long as you didn't mind leaving the child in Switzerland and never seeing it again. Switzerland, France, Belgium: they must all be full of the by-blows of the British aristocracy, if truth were known. But that's not what you want, is it?"

"No" she almost cried. "No, I didn't…I don't. I can't explain it, not after what we now know about Michael, but…this is my child: my first-born…and I want to be its mother, to raise it, and love it. I couldn't have even a hope of doing that without you, Anthony."

"That's all perfectly normal. Maternal instinct and all that. Well, I'll say it again: thank heavens for your aunt Rosamund and her choice of hotels!" he smiled, having deflected her gratitude once more.

"So, what do _you_ want, Anthony?"

"My dear, I want your happiness. I want the child to be born at Locksley, and both mother and baby to be healthy. If I am blessed with that, then I will be happy to recognise your child as my own. I am extremely unlikely to have children at my age, and it would be nice to have an heir."

"Do you really mean it?" she whispered.

"Of course, my dear, I have said it."

"You are more noble than I ever thought."

"Hardly." He smiled modestly and looked down. "In fact, I'm being very selfish. For a few hundred pounds a year on dresses and such like, I have won myself a beautiful wife and a chance of having a family. I think I got a very good deal. You, however, have ended up with an old bore, despite his best efforts to spare you."

His tone was light and joking: his meaning was serious. Edith did her best to match him.

"Well, if that is so, then I have nothing and no one to blame but myself and my foolishness, so I shall have to like it. And, to be frank, I think I already do!"

* * *

_._

The Channel crossing was not overly rough, but it wasn't calm either. Edith was hideously sick. Rosamund and Cora tended to her as best they could. Anthony had tried to help too, until the women sent him away. He sat with Robert, worrying about her relentlessly.

"It's only a combination of the pregnancy and the seasickness, Anthony. She will be fine once we reach Dover" Robert reassured him.

"I know, I know. But…"

"Forgive me saying so, old chap, but you do fuss over Edith like a mother hen. What is it that's putting the wind up you so?"

Anthony abruptly turned and looked deep into the Earl's eyes. What Robert saw there unnerved him. He had seen men look like that before in Natal during the South African War, men who had lost their entire families.

"Robert, if Edith died in childbirth, would you blame me?"

"N-no, of course not. Sybil…well, you know what happened."

"Sorry. Of course you know" Anthony replied, averting his gaze. "But I would: I would blame myself. With Maud…it was dystocia. It took nearly twelve hours for anyone to notice that anything was wrong with the baby. They thought that she was just having a long labour. Then it was another twelve hours while they tried to save the child. She was put through agonies, and it was all in vain. The boy was stillborn. And Maud, as if she hadn't suffered enough, then had to endure another four hours while she bled to death: they couldn't find the source of the haemorrhage which was deep within her womb. Convicted murderers receive a more merciful death."

"I'm so sorry, Anthony. I didn't know."

"I'm terrified, Robert. I am so terrified that history will repeat itself."

"Edith is young and strong. We…together…we will make sure she has the very best care."

"Sometimes, even that isn't enough. Is it? This is something I cannot control, and it scares me silly. I can't bear to lose her, Robert. Not now. It would kill me."

Robert put his hand on Anthony's shoulder, truly wanting to console the man. For the first time they had a real connection that had begun to bond them together as kin. Robert also saw the truth of Rosamund's and Cora's conviction, told in Anthony's tears: the man genuinely loved his daughter.

* * *

_._

**_Thank you all again for reading and reviewing. The response to this tale, which started accidentally, has taken my breath away. I hope to live up to your expectations in the coming chapters!_**


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